


Tooth and Claw

by emotionalmorphine



Series: Tooth and Claw [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Animal Transformation, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Emesis, Feral Behavior, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Universe Alteration, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:19:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 26,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalmorphine/pseuds/emotionalmorphine
Summary: There's a wolf stalking the streets of Kirkwall. Every full moon the wolf returns, cleaning the streets of slavers and thugs, ripping them apart at the seams. Anders is attacked and the giant wolf saves him and then seems to take an interest in him. After saving Anders a second time the wolf reveals himself - Fenris. But there are other secrets that Fenris is hiding, ones that will change Anders' life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tooth and Claw is an episodic story updated once a month on [Tumblr](http://emotionalmorphine.tumblr.com/). I was asked for it to be published here as well and I finally relented. Chapters are short because of the nature of the fic. Each chapter will be posted retroactively here so that my Tumblr followers get to read it first - incentive to follow me, I guess. I also take prompts on my Tumblr for this fic which may be used in the next chapters or be used in an Interlude between chapters. Feel free to send me something if you have an idea.
> 
> Enjoy!

The cobbled streets of Hightown were quiet. Too quite. Anders could hear each whisper of breeze rustling through the branches of carefully pruned trees. Usually at this time of night there would be servants bustling back and forth, couples walking together in the night air, or parties of young men and women gallivanting between manors. It was easy for a shabby apostate to lose himself among the crowds as he slipped back down to Lowtown. Tonight he stood out like a beacon, walking the eerily quiet streets alone.

All because of a rumour. A story designed to scare children and made for good telling over a mug of ale. Anders sniffed. He wasn’t about to let a story come between him and a patient; tonight a scared young mother who’s babe had contracted an illness the Chantry said didn’t need treatment. Luckily she had found Anders or the child would have been dead within the week.

Anders breathed in deep, the cold air burning his lungs. Maker, though it felt good to be outside, instead of trapped in Darktown with its particular…aroma. He looked up at the dark sky. It was heavy with grey clouds and if he didn’t hurry back he would get soaked.

Behind the clouds, bright and heavy, hung the full moon. Anders could see snatches of its orange face whenever the clouds blew past on the strong wind.

Somewhere across the commons a dog began to bark. Anders felt his heart tick in response and he chided himself for his foolishness. He was a Grey Warden, for the Maker’s sake, and he shouldn’t be jumping at–

A baleful howl rolled across the night air. Belonging to a creature much larger than a dog, the howl was wrenched from a great maw, air flowing from a great chest.

Anders tightened his grip on his staff. If the stories had any shred of truth then wolves were roaming the streets of Kirkwall at night. Possibly driven from Sundermount into the city looking for food. Ice cold sweat prickled at the back of Anders’ neck. That howl did not sound like it had come from any wolf he had heard.

He hurried his pace, heading for the steps that would lead him through the Common and then down into Lowtown.

He heard the _snick_ of the arrow just in time.

Anders turned and threw a shield around him and the arrow bounced harmlessly off the glowing blue surface. Another volley of arrows followed. Anders crouched, sending more of his magic into protecting himself.

The first thug appeared in a puff of black smoke, rushing towards Anders, knife drawn. Anders knocked the man back with a pulse from his magic.

More attackers. Raiders, all looking to rob an unsuspecting noble of their plentiful coin. Unfortunately for them Anders was not just aware of their presence but had little to no coin for them to steal.

Anders charged electricity on the ends of his fingers and flung it out at one of the archers. The woman convulsed and screamed. Anders didn’t stop to watch her fall back off the balcony. He turned to the next archer and shot another ball of electricity towards the man. He jumped from the balcony and disappeared into a black mist. Anders cursed and swung back around. Two men with lethally long swords stalked towards him.

“Looks like we got ourself a mage. Wonder what the Templars will pay if he haul him in,” one said.

“Good money, I suspect. Leave him alive!” the second called to his invisible companions.

Anders felt a smile tug at his lips. If they honestly thought he was going to let a few thugs drag him to the Gallows they were fooling themselves.

Anders felt the ice crawl down his arms as he called upon it, and he flung it in a wide arch towards the two men. Sharp spikes of ice jutted towards the men, halting their approach. Anders cast another wave of ice behind him, catching the approaching woman and freezing her to the spot, her legs encased in ice.

It was different being in battle alone rather than with his companions. He had no warrior to take on the swordsmen or shield him from direct blows. No one was raining arrows upon the raiders’ heads from the shadows. It was him alone.

Justice stirred within him. Well, almost alone.

Anders looked up as he heard the twang of a bowstring. His shield caught the arrow just in time, bouncing it to the floor. Anders brought down his shield just as a gust of wind pulled the smoke mist from around an elven woman. Anders tried to bring up his staff to defend himself too late. The spy brought up the hilt of her dagger and bashed Anders hard on the back of the head. The blow blinded him as he fell to the ground, white flashes crackling behind his eyelids.

He felt himself hit the cobblestones and he blindly clamoured for his staff.

Anders froze when he heard a scream. And there on the wind came a terrible growling, a rumble that Anders could feel in his chest and set off something primal inside of him. Run, hide, don’t look back. 

There was another almighty scream of absolute terror and Anders heard whatever the creature was pounce. He could imagine its great teeth rending flesh and breaking bone as he heard the screams of the bandits around him. Anders managed to pull himself up on all fours and specks of his vision returned, swimming in front of him. He couldn’t feel for his staff. Metal clanged to the floor, a shield was broken with the splintering of wood.

Anders’ head spun. He dared to look up. The Commons swam and he had to stop himself from pitching sideways. He saw a flash of something white, something huge. He tried to see it but it moved too fast for his addled mind to keep track of, a shifting expanse of white fur and nothing else. Anders’ gaze landed on the still body of the elven woman. The body had been shredded to pieces, blood spilling thick across the cobblestones. A swell of nausea came to Anders’ stomach and he forced himself to look away. But he could still hear the shouts, the screams, and that Maker awful growling from whatever creature was feasting upon these men.

Anders’ fingers finally found his staff and he clung to it like an anchor at sea. He couldn’t prop himself up, barely knowing which way ‘up’ was. He knew he was sitting but he was unsure of anything else.

His head was pounding.

As quickly as it began, it all ended. The screams dead with those who made them. Every life snuffed out except his own. 

On the breeze Anders could hear the creature breathing. It stirred that primal terror within him again. Anders could hear it move closer, the clicking of nails on the stones, the smell of dead wood, green moss and blood filling his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut, clinging to his staff. If it got too close he could try to cast something.

Silently, Anders begged for it to leave. For the Maker to spare him from this beast. He dared to open his eyes just a crack. Large teeth dripping with blood, white fur stained red, lips drawn back as it approached.

Anders couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and threw up, whatever meager pickings of food he had earlier coming back up. His head hurt so much, banging now, temples feeling swollen and his head heavy. He raised as uncooperative hand to wipe at his mouth but banged himself in the nose instead.

The creature huffed.

Anders felt the fiery sting of hot tears in his eyes. He couldn’t rationalise his terror for a creature he had barely glimpsed at. He had fought Darkspawn, a Broodmother, yet he could not face this beast.

His stomach roiled again and he had to throw up, barely even able to lean aside until he listed sideways and fell into the pool of his own vomit.

The pain in his head was excruciating. His world narrowed down to the pulse of his own heart and the hot breath of the creature coming closer until darkness finally took him.


	2. Chapter 2

His head was pounding. A steady thump in the back of his skull. It was enough to make him sick and he gagged, trying to hold back the urge to vomit. Anders tried to lift his hand to his head but it wouldn’t work the way he wanted. His hand felt as though it was separate from his body, floating somewhere in the darkness surrounding him.

Anders didn’t dare open his eyes. He tried again and his hand fell against his forehead. He groaned as the dull thump threatened to crack his head in two. A trickle of magic curled from his fingers, seeking out the pain and damage he had sustained.

Anders barely remembered what happened. Someone had hit him on the back of the head, then there was the darkness, the pain…and the fear. The creature rending limb from limb, blood flying across the cobblestones. And then… 

Anders frowned. He didn’t remember much else. Just…movement, as though he was floating, and the pain in his head growing steadily worse.

He wasn’t outside on the streets now. He was on a bed; definitely not his own gathering by the soft furs and fluffy pillow. Anders curled his hand into the fur. It was silken soft.

The room, wherever he was, was warm and quiet. The only light came from the flickering of the fire in the hearth and the morning sun shining through a broken window.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Everything around him seemed blurred. He blinked several times but it didn’t alter his vision. It was like looking through the bottom of a glass mug. He could see the fire and the bare mantel. A picture may have hung above there once but now it was blank. In front of the fire were low benches made of rickety wood. Spiderwebs hung from the rafters and across corners. They were just as dust covered as the bureau and desk. 

The glass bottles broken on the floor answered his question finally. This was Fenris’ home. The derelict mansion he had taken from Danarius and his associates.

Fenris, however, was not to be seen. And Anders had no idea how he got here. His last memories were of that beast and its blood red maw.

A sharp pain stabbed in his head and he cringed, burying himself against the pillow as it passed. Anders sent another wisp of magic into him. He could sense he had been badly injured. But the wound was not as raw as it should have been. Anders slid his tongue over his teeth and the flavour of elfroot assaulted him. Someone had been feeding him potions to deal with the damage.

If they had not…he would likely be dead.

He let his magic seep through his head, a warm, comforting touch that soothed the pounding in his head. Slowly the pain dimmed. He wouldn’t be able to completely eradicate the headache but the damage he sustained was healed.

Anders opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps. His vision still seemed spotty, but it would pass. Fenris was standing at the doorway, unmoving.

“I’m awake,” Anders said but didn’t sit up. The bed was comfortable and moving around right now didn’t sound like it would be as agreeable.

“I noticed,” Fenris answered. He stepped into the room but hesitated to come too close. He lingered near the end of the bed, shifting on his feet, scratching his ear, and just held the jug of water he had brought.

Anders sat slowly. It made his head spin but he closed his eyes and breathed through it. He tentatively touched his hand to the back of his head. His hair was matted with blood and dirt.

“You were badly injured,” Fenris said.

Anders looked up. “How did I get here? I was in the street and…” The memory of the savaged bodies flashed across his mind and he grimaced.

“I found you at my door. Perhaps you made it here in your daze?”

Anders frowned. He didn’t remember that. He remembered nothing past that mighty jaw bearing down on him. “You didn’t…see anything, did you? A creature?”

Fenris placed the jug of water on the bedside table but just as quick he moved back to place space between them. Anders had thought they were making progress as of late - the bickering between them had been minimal and Fenris even invited Anders to play cards at the mansion. Now Fenris seemed hesitant to even be near him.

“I saw you bleeding on my stoop and nothing more. You encountered street thugs, likely. It’s dangerous for an apostate mage to wander the streets at night and you should know this.”

Anders scowled at him. “I was tending a patient and I can handle myself.”

“You were near death.”

Generally he could handle himself. Anders cleared his throat and then looked up at Fenris, who was regarding him with an unimpressed look on his face. “Yes, well… I thank you. For helping me. I know I’m not your favorite apostate.”

“I do not know many. Perhaps you are by way of default.”

That made Anders grin. He huffed a laugh and saw Fenris smile. The expression was always pleasant to see on the elf. He never smiled enough. “I suppose I should leave. I’ve taken up enough of your hospitality and Lirene will be wondering where I am.” Anders looked out the broken window, sun shining into the room and the smell of bread sitting in the air.

Fenris hesitated, an unreadable expression souring his face. He curled his hand on the bed end. “It would do you well to rest. You are also covered in blood. I have a tub you may use.”

Anders smoothed his hand over his coat and frowned at the state it was in. He knew how much of this blood was not his own. “I guess that is a good idea. Someone covered in blood walking the streets is sure to cause concern. I don’t need the City Guard dragging me in.”

Fenris shifted again, moving his weight from one foot to another. His hand left the bed and he pulled back. “I have my own concerns. I will not be here. Do not break anything.”

“Yes, because more broken glass will ruin your aesthetic,” Anders quipped as Fenris left him.

Anders slid back down on the bed, the comfortable pillow the perfect place to rest his aching head. He still had no idea how he had come to fall at Fenris’ step. He had been on the opposite side of Hightown. It would have likely been closer to Hawke’s. And Fenris would never be his first choice for aid. Yet here he was.

He looked up at the cracks in the ceiling. He knew he hadn’t been imagining things. That creature had been real. 

Somewhere inside of his mind he felt the reassurance from Justice. Justice saw everything he did and a spirit was not swayed by mortal perception. 

That beast had been real. And it just might have saved his life.


	3. Chapter 3

“They were ripped apart, Hawke. I’ve never seen anything like it. One of my recruits lost his lunch all over his boots.”

Anders froze at the doorway. Aveline was leaning forward to speak to Hawke, Varric at his side shaking his head, eyes wide.

Anders plastered on a fake smile, a little too large to be natural. He leaned heavily on his staff, edging closer. “What are we talking about?” he asked. He knew perfectly well what they were talking about.

“Seems like something ripped apart some thugs in Hightown. Left pieces of them all over the street.”

Aveline frowned. “It’s too violent to be Carta related. It looks like…an animal attack. But it must have been massive.”

“Something that big isn’t just going to wander into Hightown unnoticed,” Varric said. “I know the nobles like to keep their drapes shut at the first sounds of trouble but whatever this animal was, someone must have seen it.”

“Perhaps Merrill should talk to some of the elven servants. She knows quite a few of them and they trust her,” Anders said. Hawke patted the bench next to him and Anders sat, leaning his staff against the table edge.

“I don’t like that what we’re seeing is matching up with tall tales,” Aveline said.

Hawke scoffed. “Come on. That’s just…just…ridiculous!”

“It was a full moon,” Aveline reminded him.

“Oh, Hawke. These things are just coincidence. People over exaggerate and when the rumours show some credence, they get passed around even more.”

“Who knows, maybe the rumours are true,” Varric said and when Hawke look at him he let out a large guffaw. “Giant wolves savaging thugs in Hightown. _Awooooo!_ ”

Hawke laughed. He slung his arm around Anders and pulled him closer. “Come now, Varric, don’t scare Anders. He’s gone all pale.”

Anders pushed at him but Hawke’s arm was like a tree trunk slung around his shoulders. “I have not,” he said and wished he sounded more confident about that. He probably had gone pale. 

The door to Varric’s room pushed open and Isabela swanned in, Fenris trailing behind her. When he raised his head he paused, staring at Anders. Anders felt himself go cold. Fenris was the only person that knew he had been attacked in Hightown that night.

Unless he had told.

Fenris sat across the table and Varric pushed a bottle of wine towards him. But Fenris was still watching Anders, expression distant, eyebrows crinkled in what was likely disdain.

Anders cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m sure whatever happened was a once off event,” he said. His voice broke half way through.

Hawke cooed at him and held his mug up to Anders. And for once, Anders drank, trying to rid the taste of bile from his throat.

Fenris frowned and the furrow between his brows deepened.


	4. Chapter 4

Anders didn’t like to think he was the sort that went looking for trouble. 

Generally he was the first to run the other way. Being out on the Kirkwall streets at night was not the safest place for anyone to be, let alone an apostate mage wanted by the Templars for being a rebel and a terrible influence on all those good little Circle mages who of course never thought of such things like freedom.

But something was out here. Whatever that creature had been, it had saved Anders, and he needed to know why.

Anders didn’t believe in coincidence. With the full moon hanging bright in the sky he headed up the many steps to Hightown. It was dead silent; every crunch of his boots on the cobblestones sounded like glass shattering. He let himself lean heavier on his staff and held his breath every time he turned a corner.

Hightown was empty. 

No nobles dallying between manors. No servants busying themselves back and forth. The streets were just as quiet as last month. Except last month he had been attacked and tonight…there was no one.

He even tried to look as weak and helpless as possible but there was no attack, not even a lonely pickpocket taking an opportunity when Anders so thoroughly offered one. 

It seemed that no one was keen to test the rumours and tales of great beasts wandering the streets of Hightown on the full moon. Not once their compatriots were ripped to shreds the month before, anyway.

Anders sighed and leaned against the wall. Aveline hadn’t even posted guards to the streets. He looked up towards the tall spires of the Chantry. No clanging of armour, no Templars telling him to give himself up. Just two heavy locked doors and darkened windows. If this continued it would be a great night to smuggle mages from the Gallows. With no Templars or Guards risking the streets, it would be much easier to use the tunnels below Kirkwall and get the mages to safety at the other end.

He sighed. He was wasting time out here chasing tall tales. He had plenty he could be doing back at the clinic; something Justice reminded him of firmly in the back of his mind. 

With one last look up at the quiet Chantry, he turned and headed towards the stairs that would lead him back through Lowtown.

As his feet hit the first step there was a crunch. Anders froze. Another crunch. Something on the cobblestones. Not boots, though. Slowly, Anders turned his staff towards the noise. The area around him lit up and his breath stole from his lungs. 

Giant. Huge paws with vicious claws. A thick chest. Anders rose his staff higher and he could have sworn that his heart stopped. The beast was huge. A wolf, definitely, but so much larger than any Anders had seen before. Its fur was white as snow, its eyes shining, reflecting the light.

They stood there, just feet between them, neither moving. The short, shallow breaths Anders took caused his head to pound, his vision wavering, but he couldn’t force himself to breathe deeper. The creature was just staring at him, its ears pricked forward and nostrils flaring.

It wasn’t attacking.

Anders held up his other hand and a low growl rumbled from the beast’s chest. Anders’ heart tripped and he bit down hard on his tongue to stop the sound of fear leaving his mouth.

“I-I mean no harm,” he said. His voice was so shaky, quiet as a mouse. But the creature stopped growling. It raised its head and sniffed the air.

Anders didn’t know what to do. His feet were frozen to the ground. He couldn’t have run even if he wanted to. He had never known fear like this; something that turned his insides to ice, where all logic seemed to leave him.

The beast took a step forward.

Anders dropped to the ground, curling in on himself, holding his staff protectively. His heart hammered in his chest and he didn’t dare look up. He was going to be torn apart like those raiders. Aveline would find his limbs spread across the floor tomorrow.

He couldn’t help the sound of fear that escaped him as the beast came closer. He was begging, his words a jumble. Words that didn’t even make sense. Tears streamed down his face and a silent scream bubbled up through his chest when a wet nose pressed against his hair.

And he knew this was the end. This beast was– Was– It _whimpered_.

Anders fell silent and there it was again. The creature was whining, its nose nudging at his hair and neck. Anders pressed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself, trying to make sense of the frightened mix of his thoughts as adrenaline raced through his veins. 

Again, the beast whimpered at him and Anders couldn’t help the way he flinched as a hot, wet tongue licked at his ear.

His fingers were white where he clutched his staff but slowly - very slowly - he opened his eyes and looked up. Face to face with the creature, he could see right into its eyes. They were green. The beast whined again and the long tongue licked at Anders’ cheek, along the path of his tears.

It sort of…tickled.

Maker, but those teeth were huge. Anders let the beast lick at him - not that he had much choice - until it finally seemed satisfied. Likely because Anders had stopped crying and shaking with fear. The beast pulled back and lowered its head to nuzzle at Anders’ jaw and then down to his neck. 

Even knowing the beast was unlikely to hurt him, Anders still tensed and the creature whined again, its hot breath snuffling at Anders’ collar.

He laughed. Anders couldn’t help it. The sound rolled up through him and escaped his mouth. It sounded ridiculous, near hysterical, but not at all something he could help.

The beast seemed happy with whatever scent it found on Anders and it moved back to stare at him. Anders was drawn instantly back to its eyes. There was definitely intelligence there. This was no ordinary animal.

“What are you…?” Of course he received no answer but the creature huffed at him. 

Anders slowly lifted his hand, ignoring the way he trembled, and reached forward. He didn’t think the creature would snap his hand off. Anders was rewarded with the soft touch of a wet nose against his palm. His eyes went wide; the creature was actually letting Anders touch its face. Anders slowly - very slowly - moved his fingers over the muzzle of the beast and across the soft, snow white fur. The wolf gave another huff, almost like… _exasperation_.

Anders went to move his hand again when the beast suddenly reared back. Anders’ heart skipped in his chest. Had he done something wrong? The beast’s ears flattened back and a low growl erupted from deep in its chest. But it wasn’t growling at him. Anders heard it then; boots on the cobblestones.

“Anders!” Hawke yelled.

Before Anders could even decide if he wanted to yell back or not the beast had stood and bounded away down the steps behind him. It was so huge it took them all in no more than two leaps and then it was gone, as if it had never been there in the first place.

“Anders!” Hawke ran over, his staff drawn and held aloft, the crystal at the end glowing to shine light ahead of him. The full moon was bright but the streets were shadowed by the large manors.

“What are you doing here?” Anders asked. He slowly hauled himself to his feet, limbs still shaky and uncooperative. He had to lean heavily on his staff just to keep from toppling over.

“I went down to Darktown to see you but you weren’t there. When I was coming back I felt someone using magic close by and, well, we apostate mages gotta stick together. I thought you might be in trouble.”

“How did you know it was me?” Anders asked. He couldn’t help looking over his shoulder, as if he expected the beast to pace back into view.

“I get this…feeling. Maybe it’s Justice, I dunno.” Hawke shrugged his massive shoulders and scratched the back of his head.

Anders sighed heavily. The beast was gone and something about Hawke always made Anders feel calm. He knew Hawke would always try to protect him. “Do you think I might be able to stay with you tonight?” he asked. “I don’t really fancy the long walk back to Darktown.”

Hawke beamed. “Of course! You really should stay more often. I’d really like it. I worry about you, y'know.” Anders was suddenly swept up into a hug and he couldn’t help his laugh.

And then there, in the distance, came a wistful howl. Anders pulled back from Hawke and they both stared at each other as the wolf bayed into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

“You really should think about staying,” Hawke said. They trudged along the path from the Wounded Coast, the sand turning to dirt beneath their boots. The smell of the ocean was replaced by pine and the loam of grazing animals.

“I’ve already abused your hospitality, Hawke. I can’t just…move in!” Anders said.

“Why not?” Hawke asked. He grabbed Anders’ by the wrist and made him face around. “You could.”

“Hawke…” Varric warned but Hawke held up his free hand, the other still holding Anders captive.

“It’s the perfect solution. You would have easy access to your clinic, but you would be safe in the manor at night. No Templar would dare raid the house of the Champion of Kirkwall!”

Varric sighed heavily and looked up at Hawke.

“I-I can’t, Hawke!” Anders protested. He took up enough of Hawke’s time as it was. Hawke was always there looking out for him, keeping the Templars from his back and door, bringing him meals and new clothes and herbs for the clinic, and was always there when Anders needed a shoulder to lean on.

“Please, Anders. It’d make me feel much better knowing you’re close and safe.” He held both of Anders’ hands in his own and Anders felt the weight of his stare.

“If the Mage wants to continue living in a sewer then you should let him,” Fenris snapped. “He is not a child that needs to be coddled!”

Anders blinked. He wrenched his gaze away from the soul-searching look Hawke was giving him. His immediate reaction was to snap back at Fenris but…it had almost been a compliment. And when he looked at Fenris, there was no vitriol in his stare. One might even say it looked as though he cared.

“Fenris is right, Hawke,” Anders said. He pulled his hands free of Hawke’s and tried to overlook the upset pout on Hawke’s face. “I’m needed in Darktown. I know it’s not always the safest place in Kirkwall but I’m a big boy.” He smiled but Hawke didn’t respond in kind.

Varric patted Hawke on the arm. “C'mon, big guy. Drinks are on me.”

Anders frowned and watched them turn and continue on the path back to Kirkwall. Hawke seemed so dejected. Surely he couldn’t have actually thought Anders would…move in with him!

Fenris cleared his throat and Anders looked up. “You made a wise decision,” Fenris said.

“Then why does he look so crushed? And what do you care about it? Unless you’re hoping a Templar raid is going to come crashing my door down to drag me away!”

Fenris shuffled his feet and couldn’t meet Anders’ eyes. “That is not what I meant…”

“Then what is it you meant?” Anders huffed, blowing his errant bangs from his sweaty face. He didn’t have the energy for all of this. He wanted to go back to his clinic, wash the sweat from his face, and collapse in his cot for a few good hours.

“You are capable of ensuring your own safety,” Fenris answered. “You are capable.”

“Why, Fenris, that might be a compliment.”

Fenris wrinkled his nose and Anders had to resist laughing. It was almost cute.

“I am stating fact, Mage. Nothing more.”

Anders followed Fenris as he turned to continue back on their path. His longer legs made it easy to match Fenris’ stride. “Yet somehow you gave up the opportunity to mock me. Today is a strange day, indeed.”

“I do not mock,” Fenris snapped. “If I am to point out your weaknesses then know it is the truth.”

“Oh, Fenris, you do love me, after all!” Anders fanned at his face, like a damsel in distress come rescued by her hero.

Fenris snorted but he didn’t speed up his pace or try to extricate himself from Anders’ side.

“Come on, Fenris, admit it. You don’t hate me. You might even…oh Maker, you like me!”

Fenris’ eyes went wide and he stopped in his tracks, staring up at Anders.

“That’s right. You like me!” Anders hummed. “Companion? Friend? _Best friend?_ ” Anders leered and leaned closer only to be shoved - albeit gently - away by Fenris. He felt a tingle run through his body, the closeness and connection with all the lyrium always made his nerves sing.

“Do not act so foolish. You’re a grown man.” He stalked off again and Anders blithely skipped up beside him.

“Come now, Fenris, what’s the point of being free if you don’t enjoy it. Sometimes a bit of silliness makes all this anguish worth it.”

“…I do enjoy it,” Fenris said. He looked up at Anders briefly as they walked. “As far as I am able. But I am no more free than you.”

“Fenris admits that he enjoys my company and that mages are prisoners all in one day. Has the Maker blessed me? I must finally be being rewarded for all the soul-crushing horror and torture.”

Anders smiled and there, right before he could miss it, he saw Fenris’ lips quirk up in a smile. It was gone just as quick as it had appeared, but it had been there nonetheless. Anders’ smile grew.

Perhaps he was being rewarded.


	6. Chapter 6

Anders sighed and shook his wet hands before wiping them on his trousers. It had been another long day in the clinic. He looked back out into the Darktown alleys - it must be approaching dusk by now. It was always so hard to tell what time of day it was down here in the muck.

“Go, Anders. I can finish up here,” Lirene said. She smiled softly as she stacked the vials of potions in the cabinet. “Hawke will be waiting for you.”

Anders didn’t want to admit that perhaps that was why he was lingering in the clinic. Hawke had become so distant, so quiet lately. He looked at Anders with such open affection and Anders didn’t know what to do with that. Hawke was a good man, a kind man. He gave of himself to all who needed help. He was constantly buying things for the clinic, bringing Anders meals, and pretending he had no idea who had left all those sovereigns in the donation box.

Hawke was a good man. And yet… Anders huffed. It would just be so much easier if he held any sort of affection for Hawke that was more than friendship. He knew Hawke would reciprocate the feelings. Perhaps that’s what Hawke wanted. But Anders couldn’t make himself feel what wasn’t there.

“Go,” Lirene said again and waved her hand at him. “Before it gets dark.”

“Yes, yes, all right. So much nagging from one small woman…” Anders smiled as Lirene put her hands on her hips, looking very displeased with him. He grabbed his staff from the back room and left Lirene to finish organizing for the next day. With a wave of his hand he extinguished the lanterns outside the clinic, the doors swinging shut behind him.

Darktown was its usual unpleasant self and Anders hurried his steps. Being out after dark really just invited trouble, even down here where the Carta knew him well. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t stop him for some ‘protection money’ should they see him out.

The rickety lift brought him up to street level. The sun was just sinking over the horizon, the docks still alive with fishermen bringing in the last of their gear and heading home for the evening. It was easy to get lost amongst the bodies.

Anders enjoyed this time of the evening. When Kirkwall shut its doors and closed for the night. Overhead the moon was rising; a great ball peeking through the clouds and buildings. Something twisted inside Anders’ stomach. A full moon.

How could he forget? He could still sometimes feel the soft fur under his fingers as he remembered touching the great wolf. Whether it appeared or not the previous full moon, Anders would never know. He was kept in the clinic all night with an especially bad outbreak of chokedamp - a whole section of Darktown suffocated with rot. Many people had died that night and the full moon and the white wolf were the last things on Anders’ mind. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he had missed the full moon until the next morning, glimpses of it still high in the sky even as the sun broke over the horizon.

Anders clung to his staff a little tighter. He had promised to meet Varric, Hawke and Isabela at the Hanged Man. He wouldn’t have time to go searching through Hightown for the beast. There was no way he could sneak off without Hawke following him, worried for his safety.

Something inside of him wanted - wanted! - to go to Hightown and seek out the wolf. It had saved him from those raiders, had come to his side and let Anders touch him, had even seem concerned for Anders when he showed fear. The creature was intelligent, and for some reason it had taken at least somewhat of a liking to Anders. He wanted to know why.

Anders pushed open the door to the tavern and was greeted with a strong smell of cheap ale and sweat, the heat of too many bodies in a small area pushing against him as the cold was closed outside. Corff waved to him from behind the bar and Anders inclined his head. He had to push through the crowd to make his way upstairs to Varric’s room. The bar seemed unusually busy, noisier than usual.

“Anders!” Isabela cheered and waved him in. She patted the spot next to her.

“I’m sorry if I’m late,” he said.

“Not at all, Blondie. Hawke just got here.” Varric patted Hawke on the shoulder. He looked even more depressed than usual. He wasn’t touching his mug, staring at it instead.

“What happened?” Anders asked.

“Ah, Hawke went to see Carver today. Wouldn’t talk to him again. That boy could use a good–”

“It’s all right, Varric.” Hawke shook his head. “This is what he always wanted. To be free of me.”

“Bit of an arse, if you ask me. But what an arse, too,” Isabela crooned, leaning on the table. Her breasts heaved as she sighed. Anders purposefully looked away, even before Justice could comment in his mind.

Varric was about to say something when Merrill slipped into the room. She smiled bright and wide and came rushing over, throwing her arms around Hawke. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Get lost on the way over?” Varric asked.

“Oh, no, not much, only a little. I think I took a wrong turn because I ended up in an alley I didn’t know and…well, here I am now,” she said. She sat down next to Hawke. “It’s very busy downstairs. You don’t think it’s because…you know…”

“The full moon?” Isabela asked. She grinned and nodded. “Of course it is! People are terrified to go out onto the streets. More raiders dead last month down by the docks. Seems Hightown isn’t the only one with a visitor.”

“That could have been anything…” Anders said. Of course he had heard about the bodies, but none of them had been torn apart like the raiders in Hightown.

“With teeth that big?” Isabela asked.

“Maybe it was a sea monster,” Merrill said. “Slithered up onto the docks and attacked those men! There are sea monsters, you know. Maybe it got hungry.”

Varric laughed. “It could’ve just been some dogs. Plenty of them out at night. Mabari have got big teeth.”

“I dunno,” Isabela said. “I wouldn’t be placing bets on a Mabari being the culprit. I’ve been slobbered on by Dog enough times to have gotten a good look at his teeth.”

“Dog doesn’t slobber…” Hawke said and Isabela gave him a look that said he very much did slobber.

“Did you ask around Hightown, Daisy?” Varric asked.

Merrill sat up straight and nodded. “Oh, yes! Most people were too afraid to say anything. I don’t know if they saw anything but most of them said they had heard noises. Howling, but from something very big. Much bigger than a normal wolf.”

Anders felt the lump in his throat grow. He tried to swallow it down but it stuck there. Surely someone else must have seen this creature. Someone who wasn’t dead. “So no one saw anything?” he asked, his voice sounding thick.

“Well there was one girl. She didn’t want to tell me at first as she thought she might get into trouble. She wasn’t supposed to be out, you see. She was meeting someone from another house. She didn’t believe the stories and thought it was a good time to sneak out. I think it’s just awful they have to sneak around just to meet someone they–”

“Daisy,” Varric interrupted.

“Oh, right, yes, well you see she was out on the street but kept to the alleyways in the dark so no one would see her. She was about to go back to her manor alone but she heard a howl. She said it was huge - a great wolf with white fur! It was bounding down the stairs to Lowtown. It didn’t see her or it didn’t care but she heard voices and ran away before she saw anything else. But she said it was most definitely a wolf!”

“I told you!” Isabela said. “If it sounds like a wolf, it’s a wolf.”

“A big, white wolf prowling around Hightown on the full moon,” Varric said and leaned back in his chair. “Sounds like a good story.”

“Was this the month before last?” Hawke asked. Merrill nodded. “Anders, that was what we heard!”

Anders swallowed, trying desperately to keep the look of knowing off his face. What would his friends say if he told them about what had happened? Hawke would probably insist on hunting the wolf down. “The voices she heard might have been ours,” he said and Hawke nodded.

“Seems likely,” he said. “No one else out that night that we saw.”

Anders looked up as the door opened again. Aveline looked around at them. It likely looked suspicious, with them all leaning forward as they spoke so eagerly. Donnic followed her in holding two mugs. He set one down in front of Aveline before he sat beside her.

“What are we all talking about so conspiratorially?” Aveline asked. “If it’s something to make trouble, count me out.”

“We were talking about the Hightown wolf!” Merrill said.

Aveline looked like she was trying to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “That again. No one has even seen–”

“Someone has!” Merrill said. “I spoke with someone in Hightown and she saw a large, white wolf.”

Donnic looked to Aveline. “It would match up with the rest of the information we have.”

“I don’t want to go giving credence to stories until we know exactly what’s going on. People are already afraid. Just look at the bar tonight. Hasn’t been so full in years.”

“Maybe we should do something about it…?” Hawke asked.

Anders looked at him, eyes wide. He clutched the edge of the table to stop himself from interrupting. It shouldn’t matter to him. It shouldn’t, but it did. He didn’t want Hawke tracking down the wolf and potentially harming it. “It hasn’t attacked anyone except some raiders. I wouldn’t go looking for trouble, Hawke.”

“You were out that night, Anders. What if it had gotten you? What it–” Hawke closed his mouth and rubbed at his beard, not meeting Anders’ eyes. “It’s dangerous.”

“Where’s Fenris tonight?” Donnic asked. He was a smart man - knew when an argument was brewing. After all, he had married Aveline and they were very happy together.

Hawke shrugged. “I asked him if he was coming tonight and he threw a bottle at me. You know Fenris, sometimes he is in a bad mood. I wouldn’t force him to come when he’s like that.”

“Shame,” Isabela said, running her finger around the lip of her mug. “He is always so delightfully grumpy but he has a wicked sense of humor.”

“He threw a bottle at Hawke. I don’t know about the sense of humor part,” Anders said.

Isabela shrugged. “Everyone is entitled to a bad mood now and then. I think Fenris more than anyone.”


	7. Chapter 7

Anders rolled over in the soft bed, burying himself in the warm covers as the morning light streamed in through the large window. The fluffy pillow he nestled his head on smelled like sunlight and lavender and had a touch like satin. There were certainly benefits of accepting Hawke’s hospitality.

It might have actually been closer to return to Darktown in the wee hours of the morning when they all left the Hanged Man, but Hawke wasn’t going to hear any of it and dragged Merrill and Anders back to his manor. Merrill was likely safely wrapped in her own blankets right now in the room over.

He hadn’t been asleep long from what he could tell but Anders was used to rising with the sun - or what little sun shone down into his clinic. It didn’t do him to linger in bed. For one, Justice wouldn’t have it and secondly, it gave him too much time to think. Neither of those things were good for him.

Anders stretched, his long legs touching the end of the bed before he got up, silently saying goodbye to the soft coziness of a bed he rarely got to sleep in. He couldn’t help himself as he pulled up the covers and neatened them, fluffing the pillow and easing the wrinkles from the sheets. Orana would likely strip the bed to wash the linens but Anders didn’t like leaving things unkempt.

As he pulled on his coat he heard the front door bang downstairs. Footsteps barged up the stairs and Anders frowned. He was about to reach for his door when it was thrown open, Hawke standing there looking pale faced and sweating.

“Anders, quick! It’s Fenris!”

Anders slid the last buckle closed on his coat. He would have asked what was happening but Hawke grabbed his hand and started pulling him urgently from the room.

“Hawke, what’s going on? Wait!” Anders stumbled down the last stair and Hawke helped right him but didn’t stop tugging him from the manor.

Anders wasn’t going to get anything from him until they saw Fenris.

He had only seen Hawke like this a few times and it was always when one of them had been injured. Hawke had a terrible guilty conscience. He made things his responsibility even when he had nothing to do with anything.

Hawke had made all of them his responsibility.

Fenris’ door was open, likely from when Hawke ran out. The inside of the manor was quiet and dark, just as it always was - skeletons still lining the walls where the bodies had slumped, upturned furniture, and burnt wood and wallpaper. Hawke ignored it all as they dashed up the stairs, both instinctively stepping over the fourth step that had almost rotted through.

“Hurry,” Hawke said as he pulled Anders onto the landing. He squeezed Anders’ hand tight as he pushed open the door to Fenris’ room.

Anders felt his heart skip in his chest.

The room was in shambles. The low wooden benches near the fire had been upheaved and broken, glass littered the floor, and blood…so much blood…

“Fenris, Anders is here. It’s okay,” Anders heard Hawke saying. And there on the bed was Fenris. He was naked, dark skin covered in blood as his brandings hummed in the low light. The bed had been torn to shreds, the last vestiges of cloth wound around Fenris as though he had tried to keep himself warm.

Hawke dropped to his knees next to the bed and carefully held his hand out to Fenris. Fenris flinched, inching away and crying out in pain.

Anders felt his magic stir inside of him before he even meant to call upon his mana. It was an instinct. He was needed. He slowly stepped forward. Fenris was watching him, his green eyes dilated, shining in the dark room. There was so much blood. Anders couldn’t see where it was all coming from with Fenris hunched over, clinging to the ruined blankets like a lifeline.

“What happened?” Hawke asked but he got no answer. Fenris didn’t even look at him, his gaze still firmly locked on Anders.

“Fenris, I need to help you,” Anders said, keeping his voice low and calm. As though he was soothing a wild animal. “Will you let me?”

Fenris watched him intently as he slowly sat on the edge of the bed, far enough away from Fenris that he couldn’t touch him but close enough to see any injury. Fenris was breathing so fast - quick, shallow breaths on the edge of hyperventilating.

“Please, Fenris, let Anders help you.” Hawke looked as though he wanted to reach for Fenris, but steadied himself by digging his fingers into the torn mattress.

Slowly, very slowly, Fenris uncurled himself. It caused another cry to rip from his throat and he held his hands to his gut. Fresh blood spilled over his fingers and Hawke made a choked sound of fear.

“I need to use magic,” Anders said. He moved forward just a touch but Fenris made no attempt to get away from him. He took that as enough consent to come closer. “Hawke, go into the washroom. Fenris has bandages in there. I will need them.”

Hawke nodded and stumbled to his feet to do as he was asked.

As he shifted on the bed Fenris couldn’t hold in the noises of pain. Anders reached out and carefully steadied him, propping up what was left of a pillow so that Fenris could lean back. If it was the most comfortable position for him, it would have to do.

It gave Anders an unfettered look at Fenris’ torso. The main wound was deep, cutting into his ribs and abdomen. It could have been made by an axe or a pick, Anders wasn’t sure. But there were other injuries. Knife wounds on his chest, slashes through his skin, a jagged hole where Anders was sure Fenris had pulled an arrow free. His forehead was bleeding, the silvery hair matted and dark with blood that trickled down his face and over his chin, turning the lyrium lines red. Smaller wounds covered his arms and legs. Fenris had been brutalized and none of them had any idea what had happened.

Anders gently placed his hands over Fenris’, over the main wound in his stomach. The lightest touch was enough to make Fenris hiss in pain and clench his eyes closed. Anders started slow, letting his magic ease into Fenris. He knew how Fenris reacted to magic, he knew Fenris wanted nothing to do with it, but right at this moment he needed Anders’ help.

Fenris seemed to know that. He looked up at Anders and something akin to fear flitted across his features. Anders looked away, keeping his attention on what he was doing. He could feel the damage done to Fenris’ body. How Fenris lived was a mystery. The wound was deep and involved several organs. He had lost so much blood already. But Fenris always seemed to heal, even from the most severe of wounds. Even these wounds looked as though they could be a day old, at least. There was no infection, just the rawness of open flesh.

Fenris breathed in suddenly and Anders hushed him.

Rent flesh closed beneath Anders’ hands as his magic coursed through Fenris’ body, a cool slither of power that had Fenris shivering. Fenris slowly moved his hands away from his abdomen. The wound still gaped but the blood flow had ceased. He let Anders touch his skin. Fenris was cool to the touch - too cold to be safe.

Another small grunt of pain left Fenris’ lips and he grasped at Anders’ forearm, his nails digging into Anders’ coat. Anders let him. Fenris wasn’t pushing him away or stopping him and that itself was a miracle. Fenris had cowered from Hawke’s touch.

“I have the bandages!” Hawke barreled back into the room and Anders felt Fenris give a small start at the sudden noise. Hawke stopped a few feet away, looking at Fenris. His eyes were wide, mouth slack in surprise as he saw the wounds. “Fenris…”

“It’s all right, Hawke. We got here in time,” Anders said quietly. Fenris was still staring at him, hand curled around Anders’ arm. “Bring me the bandages and then fetch a bucket and some cloths.”

Hawke wiped his big hand across his cheeks and sniffed and Anders knew he was wiping away tears. But he complied, leaving the bandages at Anders’ side.

“You will need lots of rest,” Anders said, keeping his voice calm, clinical. He could feel the knot in his own stomach warring with him. “You’ve lost a lot of blood and this injury is severe.”

Fenris’ hand tightened on Anders’ arm but he said nothing.

“And you know Hawke will want to know what happened. I can keep him away for a few days but…”

“It’s fine,” Fenris said. His voice was rough, lips stained with blood and teeth red. Anders wouldn’t be surprised if he had lost a tooth in the fight.

“I won’t ask what happened yet.” He took one of the bandages from the pile and pressed it to the wound. It looked so much better but it needed to heal. “Hold this,” Anders said and moved Fenris’ free hand on top of the bandage.

As he moved from wound to wound, Anders could feel the drain on his body. His head swam and he could see dark spots dance in front of his eyes. All things he shook away as he focussed on Fenris. He would have time to rest after but at the moment Fenris needed him.

Hawke returned with the bucket of water and fresh cloths and Anders heated the water until it was warm to the touch.

Fenris didn’t even flinch when Anders raised a damp cloth to his face. Anders carefully wiped away the blood, cleaning across Fenris’ lips and chin, over his dark brows, pushed matted hair aside as he healed the wound on Fenris’ forehead.

Hawke was watching carefully and Anders knew he was itching to help, to do something. Hawke wasn’t good at sitting idle.

“Can I help?” he asked finally.

Fenris looked at him finally but he said nothing. Anders could feel Fenris’ hand tighten on his arm.

“Hawke, it would be better if you go home and fetch some things. I need to stay here,” Anders said. “I will need mana potions and health potions. Some elfroot salve. And see if Orana has any broth and fresh bread.”

Hawke’s gaze flicked between Anders and Fenris. He pursed his lips and pushed away from the bed and back onto his feet. Anders could see the angry set to his shoulders. But he did as he was asked, stalking from the room. Anders was just glad he didn’t bang the front door on the way out.

Fenris looked back to Anders. His brows furrowed slightly as he watched Anders cleaning his dark arms, the blood wiped away. “He is angry,” he said.

“You know Hawke. He wants to help. He needs to help.”

“…thank you,” Fenris said.

Anders looked up and smiled. He didn’t understand why Fenris didn’t want Hawke’s help but he wouldn’t force anyone to put up with something they were uncomfortable with, even if it was good for them. Hawke could be loud and brash - maybe Fenris needed calm now. Anders could offer that.

Anders did what he could with the energy he had at hand. With another mana potion he would have been able to seal some of the wounds, but for now they were wound in bandages and clean of blood. Fenris was no longer bleeding and although he looked ashen and bruised, it was a great deal better than when Anders had first walked in on the scene.

Anders stripped the bed of the torn and blood-soaked covers, throwing them all in a heap near the door. The mattress was shredded in places but it still offered comfort enough for Fenris to lie back on, a fresh pillow propped under his head. Anders found a dusty but otherwise clean blanket in another room and he brought it up, tucking it around Fenris, who didn’t even complain at the treatment. Anders usually fought Fenris just to heal him - it was testament to just how poorly Fenris was doing.

It took only moments for Fenris to slip into slumber. With his wounds bandaged and a comfortable place to lie, he was out before Anders could light the fire in the hearth. He needed all the rest he could get and when Anders got his hands on more mana potions and a health potion or two, it would help immeasurably.

For now Anders flopped into the chair in front of the fire - the one piece of furniture that had survived whatever had happened in this room. He looked around as he rubbed his forehead. He had no idea what had happened and Fenris was not at all forthcoming with answers, so, for now, they were all left in the dark.

He leaned back in the comfortable chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, the fire warming his aching bones. He would just close his eyes until Hawke returned.

He had to be here for Fenris.


	8. Chapter 8

Anders turned his head to the side. He was uncomfortable, but warm. He frowned and slowly opened his eyes. The fire was burning low in the hearth, coals glowing in the dim light of the late afternoon.

A shuffling noise behind him made him jump, and he looked around the side of the large chair. Hawke. Just Hawke…

“You’re awake,” Hawke said. He had a bucket and was picking up debris - the broken glass, the splintered wood, and ripped linens.

Anders stretched his long legs. He was still feeling tired, that lingering weariness he always felt when he had expended his mana. It came back slower these days. He didn’t know if it was because he was older, because of Justice, or because of how far he stretched himself on a daily basis. He was always tired.

“Fenris is still asleep,” Hawke said. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“That’s appreciated,” Anders said. His voice was rough with sleep and he cleared his throat, trying to ease the choking, tight feeling. He watched Hawke pick up more of the glass. His eyes were red.

“Did you bring the things I asked for?” Anders asked.

“On the nightstand. What’s left of it. Orana made some fresh stew and brought it over. You should eat, too.”

Anders could feel the pit in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten last night and the bit of cheese and old bread he had for lunch hadn’t lasted long.

Hawke set down the bucket and wiped his hands on his trousers. He took a moment to look at Fenris. He was still curled under the blanket Anders had found. If he had woken, he had obviously decided to go back to sleep, and he wasn’t stirring at the sounds around him.

Hawke got the crockery pot full of stew and ladled out a cupful. It smelled warm and meaty and Anders accepted the cup without complaint. It was still hot, the heat bleeding into his cold hands.

“Here,” Hawke said and handed Anders a spoon. “A little food will do you good. You’re getting too thin.”

Anders smiled. “You know me, always worried about keeping my lithe figure.”

Hawke grinned. He settled himself on the floor next to the chair. With a wave of his hand the fire flared back to life and he threw some of the broken wood into the hearth. The fire sparked and crackled, the light shining across Hawke’s figure. He was dressed down, his armor likely still at his manor, wearing a soft linen shirt and finely cut trousers. Anders still remembered the scruffy man he had met in his clinic years ago with a dream of making his fortune.

“Did he tell you what happened?” Hawke asked.

“No. And I don’t think he wants to. Give him time. Whatever happened was clearly traumatic.”

“But why wouldn’t he–”

Anders poked Hawke in the thigh with his boot. “Don’t. Fenris will tell us when he’s ready and until then pressuring him is only going to make him clam up. I know you’re worried but he’s with us now and he’s safe.”

Hawke sighed. “You always know best,” he said and smiled up at Anders. His expression was so fond. Anders had to look away, focussing on his stew and watching the fire burn.

They sat in the silence together. Anders could just hear Fenris’ soft breaths above the crackle of the fire. Of course he wanted to know what had happened, but he wouldn’t push. Fenris would tell them when he chose and pushing him would only upset him. Fenris needed time to heal.

Anders finished his stew. The heavy soup was sitting nicely in his stomach, the gnawing hunger he had finally quieted. He set the cup and spoon down beside the chair.

“I brought you those lyrium potions you needed, too,” Hawke said. “If you wanted them now.”

Anders shook his head. “Give Fenris time to sleep.” Anders looked down as he felt Hawke’s hand on his knee. Hawke squeezed his leg before leaning closer, resting his head against Anders.

“What would I do without you?” Hawke asked. He smiled and closed his eyes. He was silent for a moment and when he spoke, he kept his eyes closed and head against Anders’ knee. “I can't… I can’t lose anyone else.”

Anders felt the lump in his throat grow. He touched Hawke’s shoulder and let his hand rest there. Of course he cared for Hawke. How could he not? Hawke had lost so much already. If there was a way Anders could spare him from any more pain, then he would.

Hawke’s hand covered his and twined their fingers together. He looked up at Anders and the same fond expression crossed his features. “Anders…why aren’t we together?” he asked.

Anders breathed in. He didn’t pull his hand away but he felt his body tense. Hawke had never pushed him, never made any sort of a move on him other than slightly terrible flirtations. But Anders had known, had watched the way Hawke watched him, felt the longing like a tangible weight upon his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Hawke said. He pulled away, shoulders slumped as he dragged himself up to his feet. “Varric told me not to say anything. I should’ve listened.”

“Hawke, no…no, I…” Anders stood. He wished it was as easy as just choosing to love Hawke. But Anders had known love, had felt it in every part of him, and what he felt for Hawke was not the same. He loved Hawke…as a friend - like family. “It’s my fault,” he said. “You’re such a wonderful man and you deserve someone who loves you as much as you love them. You deserve that, Hawke. There will be someone–”

“I don’t want someone else!” Hawke spun. He grabbed Anders by the shoulders. Anders felt his breath leave him as Hawke surged forward, crashing their lips together. The fierceness was borne of frustration and need and Anders could taste just how much Hawke wanted him.

Anders gasped as Hawke buried his hand into his blond hair, fingers curling in the strands. Anders knew he had to stop this. He raised his hands to Hawke’s chest–

Hawke was ripped away from him. 

Anders stumbled back and grabbed at the chair to stop himself from falling. He heard a growl and a thud as Hawke fell to the ground. Fenris was pressing down on him, his hand curled around Hawke’s throat, the other holding down Hawke’s arm as he flailed at Fenris. Hawke made a gurgling sound and Fenris bared his teeth.

“Fenris!” Anders lunged forward. He grabbed Fenris’ arm and pulled. It was if Fenris didn’t even feel him. He tightened his hold on Hawke and Anders saw Hawke’s eyes roll back. Anders grabbed Fenris around the chest and placed his hands on Fenris’ skin. A pulse of his magic flared through his hands and ran along Fenris’ brands - lightning crawled along Fenris’ skin and he cried out, either in surprise or pain, Anders wasn’t sure but right now he couldn’t worry which. Fenris’ hand jerked and he let go of Hawke. Anders tugged and they toppled back together, falling to the floor. Fenris sprawled over him and Anders could see his muscles spasm.

Hawke gasped for air, dragging himself to his knees. Bruises were blossoming on his neck where Fenris’ fingers had clawed into his skin.

“Hawke, are you okay?” Anders asked. He went to reach forward. Fenris’ hand shot out and grabbed his arm, holding him back. “What– Stop! You just about killed Hawke!”

Fenris was staring at him with wide eyes, his hand still curled around Anders’ wrist. His shoulders were shaking and there was fresh blood blooming through the bandages on his body.

“Maker…what was that, Fenris?” Hawke demanded. His voice sounded strained.

Fenris let go of Anders. He scurried backwards away from them both. He was shaking badly as he touched his hand to his abdomen where the bandages were thickest. “Hawke… I…I apologize.”

“You apologize? Fenris, what happened there? You tried to kill me!” Hawke yelled.

“Maybe you should leave, Hawke. Let me see to Fenris.”

“I’m not leaving you with him!” Hawke snapped.

“I will not harm him. I didn’t… I should be alone,” Fenris said.

Anders knelt beside Fenris. True to his word, Fenris didn’t touch him but he looked up at Anders with such open sadness that even Hawke paused.

“You’re bleeding. Let’s just calm down and deal with this first.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Hawke said.

Anders looked back at him, a pleading look and a silent beg for understanding. Even if he did think Fenris would harm him, he was capable of looking after himself. He might have just saved Hawke’s life.

“Fine. Fine, but I’m coming back tomorrow morning. And if you harm him, Fenris…Maker help you.”

Fenris watched Hawke leave, silent and shaking.


	9. Chapter 9

Fenris wouldn’t speak. Anders helped him to the bed and downed a lyrium potion that Hawke had left for him on the nightstand. Fenris stared at nothing, wouldn’t even look at Anders, the only noise he made was one small grunt of protest as Anders’ magic wound into his body. **  
**

Anders had no idea what had happened. One minute Hawke was kissing him and the next Fenris was trying to strangle the man. Fenris had never done anything to hurt any of them, not even Anders, despite their bickering. Anders knew how Fenris felt about them. It was the same way they all felt - they were family. You might argue with your family but you never hurt each other. Not like that.

And now Fenris wasn’t saying a word.

Truthfully, Anders had no idea what to say. He had just been ripped away from Hawke before he could even explain his feelings. Hawke hadn’t even wanted to leave him with Fenris.

“I don’t know why you did that,” Anders said. He ran his hand over the bandages on Fenris’ side. The bleeding had stopped and there were still no signs of infection. He was healing, but slowly, and Anders didn’t want to rush the process.

Fenris still said nothing.

Eventually they would need some answers, but now was not the time for them. Fenris was still injured, had clearly been affected by what had happened to him, and pushing him would get them nowhere. Fenris was not beyond kicking them all out and refusing to speak. When his moods took him, he had done it before. There had been weeks at the start when Fenris refused to see any of them, had thrown Hawke from the manor and then disappeared. He always came back in his own time, seeking them out, never to make amends but quietly creeping back into the group as if he had never left. They knew it was just part of who Fenris was and they had to accept that.

Anders shook his head. “You need rest. That little song and dance only made things worse. Close your eyes and get some sleep. Hawke brought some stew, so if you wake later make sure you try to eat something. Slowly, though. Don’t make yourself sick.”

Fenris looked at him and something crossed his features, something like worry, but Anders couldn’t understand why.

“I’ll be back later. I need to check on the clinic and see how Lirene is handling things.”

Anders couldn’t be sure but he thought Fenris might have nodded. It was something, at least. He smiled at Fenris. He wasn’t angry, just confused. It wouldn’t do any of them any good to attack Fenris.

As he left he saw Fenris crawling back under the covers and he closed the door.

 

* * *

 

Lirene helped him close up the clinic for the night. Anders extinguished the lanterns and waved her off. She always hurried home just before dark. No one wanted to be down in the sewers after dark.

No one except Anders, apparently.

Oh, and the Carta.

“Mage!”

Anders turned, his protest already on his tongue and Justice surging in the back of his mind. He turned and expected to find a Templar but instead found a dwarf.

“You’re the mage, right? The healer?”

Anders sighed. “That would be me. But don’t tell anyone I told you that.”

“No time for jokes. Come with me.”

“Usually I like to be asked out for dinner first. At least some drinks.”

The dwarf rolled his eyes. Anders could see the daggers at his side, noted the Carta markings on his face along with the Casteless brands. Usually if the Carta wanted coin from him, they would come in a pack. One lone dwarf wasn’t exactly their style.

“Well, you comin’?” the dwarf asked and urged Anders to follow, waving his hand.

“You haven’t told me where we’re going. Usually I don’t just follow strangers into the darkness. Well, not anymore.”

“Look, I was just told to fetch the healer mage. ‘N I’m doing that. So get going!”

Anders frowned. ‘Fetch the healer’ was usually code for ‘someone is injured’. It wouldn’t be the first time the Carta called him to help with one of their own. But if they called him, it usually meant the situation was dire.

So he followed. If they wanted to harm him, they would have tried already. When he was useful suddenly he was their friend.

The dwarf hurried along the winding corridors of Darktown. Hands reached out to him, looking for coin or bread as he passed, and Anders had to close his mind to the choked coughs and spluttering whines he heard the beggars make. 

The dwarf ducked under a low beam and Anders had to duck considerably further down, almost on his knees to shuffle his way into a large room. Fires were burning and candles lit up the space. He also almost got a face full of knife when he went to stand.

“Hey, it’s the healer. Lay off,” his dwarf guide snapped and the knife was lowered away from Anders’ face. He breathed a sigh of relief. He liked his face.

“Through here,” the dwarf said and just about shoved Anders into a smaller room. A small room filled with too many dwarves and the heavy stench of blood and bile.

“The healer’s ‘ere!”

The crowd parted and Anders had to take a deep breath as he saw the dwarf woman lying on the bed. The sheets were covered in blood, as was she and the dwarf who was doing his best to try stitch together her wounds. Her flesh was parted in huge tears along her body, her arm had been…mutilated. Anders took another deep breath and stepped forward.

“What happened?” he asked as he set to work. The woman groaned, barely aware of her surroundings. It was probably for the best.

Another dwarf was sitting on a stool near the bed. He was bandaged heavily and seemed to be having trouble breathing. “We got it, we did. Took that bastard down. Mila here got the final blow in as it savaged her. Never seen anything like it. It had her arm and she drove her axe in with the other. That made it let go.”

Anders paused and looked at the dwarf. “Got what, exactly?”

“That wolf!” another woman said. She, too, had bandages wound up her arm but looked more hale than the other dwarves.

Anders frowned. They couldn’t mean…

“Big white one. Bloody thing has been picking us off but we finally got it.”

Anders turned back to the woman on the cot. The rents in her flesh could very well be claw marks. When he looked at them now he could see the pattern, see how close some were and how spaced apart others sat. Her arm could have been shredded by teeth. A cold feeling of dread sat in his stomach and it lurched in response. Suddenly that stew was not sitting so well.

“And you’re sure you…killed it?” Anders asked.

The dwarven man huffed. “Ran off, but no way it could’a survived. We injured it bad enough and then an axe through its gut like that. Dead meat.”

Anders whipped back around. “The axe… She caught it in the stomach?”

“Right in the side. Would’a sliced straight through his guts. No way it could’ve lived. Would’a limped off somewhere to die. Shame, would’a made a nice pelt.”

Anders frowned. No… Coincidence. It was just coincidence.

“And this happened last night?” he asked, trying to keep the distress from his voice, but even in his head he sounded thin and panicked.

It was a coincidence. There was no such–not like that! Anders had _fought_ werewolves, and they did _not_ look like wolves. He remembered that much clearly.

“Early this mornin’. Blighted thing usually disappears before the sun comes up. We tracked it outta Lowtown.”

“Was just sniffing around, too. No one out on the streets. Don’t know where it goes out of Hightown what with all them fancy manors.”

Just a coincidence.

Fenris was _not_ a werewolf.


	10. Chapter 10

By now, Fenris had realized that something was different. It might have been because Anders was staring at him every moment they were together. As much as Anders tried to turn away, to turn his attention, it kept snapping back to Fenris. Was he doing anything strange? Was he acting unusual? Was that something…wolfy?

Anders groaned and leaned against his desk. Fenris was now staring at Anders just as often as Anders was staring at him. Though his expression was filled with far more disdain than curiosity. Once he even mouthed a curt ‘What?’ before Anders could look away and focus intently on the tabletop.

It was ridiculous. Fenris was not a werewolf. He was a grouchy if handsome elf and nothing more.

But the thought wouldn’t leave Anders’ mind. As Fenris healed he noted each expression, each action the elf made. He watched the wound in Fenris’ side knit together and leave behind perfectly unscarred flesh. Normally Anders would have crowed about the expertise in his healing but he knew a wound like that should have left a scar. Especially this close to receiving it in a fight. Anders had scars on himself that were years old and had never disappeared. Fenris, though, no, his skin was unmarred.

It could be the lyrium. It was possible. Fenris always healed well and quickly. He was an anomaly - there was no other person in history, at least that Anders knew of, that had lyrium sewed into their flesh. Who could survive such a procedure and live on to be an accomplished warrior like Fenris?

Anders pushed away from his desk. Tonight he was going to find out. He took his staff and locked the clinic up behind him when he left. Darktown was empty, just as he knew Lowtown and Hightown would be. The stories were still circulating about the giant wolf prowling the streets and attacking cutthroats. The dwarf who had been so proud of her supposed kill had in turn passed when an infection ravaged her wounds. If she had returned to Anders he might have been able to save her. The Carta were not always the most trusting of groups.

Anders traveled up to the deserted streets of Lowtown. It was eerie. The moon hung high in the night sky, settling a gentle glow onto the streets below. There was more than enough light to see by but Anders lit the end of his staff. It was comforting.

His footsteps echoed down the alleyways as he made his way to the mountainous stairs leading to Hightown. He had never imagined he would hear the sound of his own footsteps in the streets of Lowtown - even at night the streets had been bustling with drunken dock workers, thugs, the ah…Ladies of the night. At least he could walk without being propositioned like he was a worker at the Rose or groping hands reaching for his sensitive bits.

Anders huffed as he mounted the last step. Kirkwall certainly had its downsides - okay, a lot of downsides. The long climb up to the seat of power was definitely one of them.

He turned his staff, the light casting a glow across the cobblestones. It was silent. The silence was beginning to pain him, like a void in his mind. It wasn’t supposed to be this quiet, this eerie. He took a deep breath. It was just his mind playing tricks on him and Justice was quick to assure him of that fact. A quiet street was a good thing. No Carta, no guards, no Templars…but also no white wolf.

Something inside of him squirmed at the thought that perhaps the wolf had been killed by the wounds the Carta said they had delivered. No, ‘squirmed’ was not the right word, at all. Something inside of him clenched hard and made his stomach roil and he wasn’t sure why. It was a fist that clenched at his heart and held tight and stole his breath.

Justice calmed him again.

The courtyard outside the Chantry was empty and silent and Anders was quick to leave for the heavy congestion of the manors in the residential quarter. Closer to where Hawke’s mansion sat…and the mansion Fenris had taken.

The silence rolled on and Anders let his feet carry him towards the derelict manor. It was dark and foreboding, a dark stain on the otherwise lovely Hightown facade.

“Lookie, lookie, a mage prowling around Hightown.”

Anders jumped and spun around. The glinting armor of the Templars seemed to be made of moonlight. Anders held his staff up - there was no hiding that he was a mage.

“You’re right, Bryant, the quiet streets did bring out the pests,” the shorter Templar said.

“Shouldn’t you be in the Chantry with the other frightened children?” Anders asked.

“Shouldn’t you be in the Gallows with the rest of the mage scum?”

Anders had to give it to him - it was a good comeback. “Well let’s not play dumb, then.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to come along quietly?” the Templar asked and Anders gave a sarcastic laugh. “Guess not.” The two Templars drew their swords and Anders felt Justice rise to the surface.

He didn’t want to play his hand too early. He suppressed Justice’s rage as he held his staff aloft. A blast of his magic knocked the Templars back a few steps, staggering them and giving Anders enough time to call upon his mana. The Templars advanced and a sweep of ice surged forward. It caught the second Templar, sealing his boots to the ground in casks of ice. Anders jumped aside as the Templar’s sword swung towards him. Despite his lined coat, that sword would skewer him like a pig. Another swing of the sword and Anders stumbled back. His back hit the wall of Fenris’ mansion, some of the mortar falling in a shower of dust above his head.

Anders gripped his staff and a surge of electricity curled over the Templar. He grunted and fell to a knee. Anders grinned and held his staff forward.

A sword swung towards him and Anders cried out. The second Templar grinned with a wicked smirk beneath his helmet. The sword sliced through Anders’ arm, cutting deep, and his staff fell to the floor with a clatter. Blood spilled down his arm, running in rivulets down under his clothes, soaking the area around the wound and turning the green fabric dark.

Anders cursed and dropped to his knees as a wave of dizziness hit him. He reached for his magic desperately and found himself cut off. The two Templars were standing over him and Anders called desperately for Justice. He would rather die than be taken back to the Circle. He was ready for that. He knew he would give his life for this cause. He knew it would be the end of him. He knew–

A huge shape rushed past him with a crash of glass and a spray of rubble. Anders slumped, holding himself up with his good arm. His mind was telling him to handle his wound, to stop the bleeding, but his body was sluggish.

But the shape came into focus. White, huge, huge jaws and teeth - the wolf. Anders gasped out in relief. He didn’t know why the wolf wanted to protect him but it had before and the way it tore into the shorter Templar, Anders knew it would protect him again.

The Templar screamed until his cry cut into a gurgle. The body dropped in a pool of blood. The wolf growled and something inside of Anders tightened, but not in fear. No, this was not fear. Something else rolled inside of him.

The wolf dodged the swipe of the Templar’s sword. It had no problem spinning and knocking the Templar to the ground. The sword slid across the cobblestones and the Templar grabbed for it uselessly as his throat was torn out.

Anders heard himself give a relieved laugh. He was safe. Safe… The wolf turned, its maw dripping red, paws covered in blood. It paid this no mind, paid even less attention to the bodies on the floor as it came to Anders. Anders found himself reaching out, his arms moving without thought, and the wolf came to him, nudging its wet nose against Anders’ cheek. Tears sprung to Anders’ eyes as the realization of how close he might have been to capture - to death - hit him. The wolf whined and licked Anders’ neck and Anders curled his fingers tight into the white fur.


	11. Chapter 11

Anders stumbled and landed on the edge of Fenris’ bed. His staff clattered to the floor and he looked at his shaking hands. A piece of cloth was wrapped around his wound, red from seeping blood. The pain was starting to catch up with him, the blood loss making him woozy.

The wolf whined and sat at Anders’ side. It pushed its nose against Anders’ ribs.

Anders looked around the room, his heart beating furiously inside his chest. There was no mistaking that the wolf was Fenris. This was his manor, his room, his bed. The wolf had pushed him inside with an insistent huff, dogging his steps as he walked up the stairs and into the bedroom.

“I can’t believe this…” Anders said. “You’re a werewolf. A werewolf! And we never knew!”

Fenris whined again and buried his large nose against Anders. Anders’ hand absently came to the wolf’s head, stroking through the soft fur. Fenris sighed and let his jaw rest against Anders’ thigh.

“You never told us. Did you tell Hawke? Does Hawke know? No…otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested hunting you down. Is this why you were acting so weird? But you attacked Hawke! Is it something to do with being a werewolf? Maker, I wish you could talk right now.” Anders rubbed his forehead. Things made sense, but he still had so many other questions. Probably more than he started with, if he thought about it. Knowing that Fenris was the wolf just created so many questions.

Fenris huffed again but didn’t move. He let himself be stroked, Anders’ fingers running through the white fur of the ruff around his neck.

“I don’t feel very well…” Anders said and clutched at Fenris’ fur. Fenris whined again and pulled away to nudge at the wound on Anders’ arm.

“If you’re asking me to heal myself…I can’t. Damnable Templar smite. What a horrible thing. They sure know how to take a mage down quickly.”

Fenris continued to nose at the bandage around Anders’ arm until he had worked it loose. The cloth slipped, the wound exposed, and Fenris’ tongue lolled out to swipe across the cut.

Anders hissed and pulled away. Fenris followed. The hot tongue continued to work over the wound and Anders sighed. There was a tingling feeling in his arm, flowing down to his fingers. Cool pinpricks along his skin. Fenris continued to lap at the wound, cleaning away blood, and Anders closed his eyes. It felt…soothing. The pain was decreasing, replaced with the tingle along his skin.

Anders let Fenris clean the wound until the wolf seemed to think his job done. Fenris pulled back to sit on his haunches and _whuffed_ at Anders.

“Am I clean now?” Anders asked. He touched his fingers to the rent fabric of his jacket. He frowned. The pain was gone. Anders looked down and touched his finger to his clean skin - no wound, not a single blemish except for some dried blood stuck to his coat. He pushed the fabric aside, trying to see where the cut had been but there was nothing, not even a slight redness.

“How…? I can’t believe it! How did you do that?” He stared at Fenris but the wolf gave away nothing.

Anders shucked his coat, letting the heavy fabric fall to the floor. Fenris sniffed at it as Anders inspected his skin. He knew he still had no hold on his mana, the smite in full effect and blocking him from his magic. This had to be Fenris’ doing. Fenris had always healed well, some wounds never seeming to bother him at all, and Anders was sure he had been injured sometimes only to find him unharmed after the battle. Did werewolves have healing abilities? He looked at Fenris, who was watching him with large green eyes.

“You have so many questions to answer tomorrow,” Anders said.

Fenris whined and lowered himself to the floor, looking very forlorn. As if he had been scolded. Anders couldn’t help but feel a bit of affection for him. He had, after all, saved his life.

“Don’t give me that look,” Anders said. “I’m not angry just…confused. I won’t tell anyone. Not even Hawke. I promise.”

Anders laughed as Fenris’ tail flipped to the side once and then twice.

“Looks like I’ll be staying here tonight, though, so I hope that’s all right. You don’t really have much choice, I suppose. And I’m not about to sleep on the floor…” Anders flopped back onto the bed, head hitting the pillow. Fenris had replaced both mattress and shredded linens. The pillow was soft and full, so very different than Anders’ own.

He felt a heavy weight hit the bed and felt it dip as Fenris’ walked up the mattress to his side. The bed was large enough for both him and a very large wolf. Anders looked over when he felt Fenris lie next to him, nose pressing into Anders’ arm where he had been injured.

“You did a good job. Nothing left to heal.”

Fenris snuffled against Anders’ skin, hot breath tickling the hairs on his arm. Anders laughed and pulled his arm back, which only made Fenris crawl closer. It was rather nice, really, to have a large, warm weight pressed against his side. Anders curled his hand into Fenris’ fur and stroked his head, watching as Fenris’ eyes fell shut.

There was no way Fenris would ever do this at any other time. Perhaps being an animal made him snuggly?

Small things were starting to make sense in his mind as he evaluated the situation. Fenris had never joined them during the full moon, either on missions or at the Hanged Man or Hawke’s mansion. If Hawke asked he usually got a door in the face. Fenris was also preternaturally strong, his size completely belying his strength and stamina. He hefted a sword as tall as he was and swung it around like a toothpick. While he certainly didn’t lack muscle definition (Anders had found himself staring at Fenris’ bare chest and back on multiple occasions) he was nowhere near as large as Hawke, who was a great bear of a man despite being a mage. Good farm-bred stock, obviously. Anders didn’t expect Fenris to be built like a large human man but even for an elf he was lithe. Anders had always assumed his strength came from the lyrium burned into his skin but…

A thought flashed through Anders’ mind and he looked at Fenris. “That’s how you survived…” he said, awe in his voice. Fenris’ eyes opened for a moment and then closed again. “No one could have survived what you did… What Danarius did to you… But you did. You heal. That’s why he chose you!”

Fenris looked up at Anders again and Anders had the very distinct impression that if Fenris were a man right now, he would have rolled his eyes.

“That vile man…” Anders said. He felt hate rolling within him. That someone would do that to another person, abuse someone so thoroughly and use their nature against them sickened him.

Anders felt Justice stir and a flood of mana shifted inside of him, seeping through his veins. Anders sighed in relief as the smite began to fade. Fenris shifted next to him and Anders had to wonder whether Fenris could feel the magic that swirled within Anders, Hawke, and Merrill. It would certainly give him a reason to be so prickly in their company - he must have the most terrible associations with magic.

Anders continued to stroke his fingers through Fenris’ coat. “I know it isn’t worth much but I’m sorry for what he did to you. For what…magic did to you. And if he ever comes for you then I hope you will allow me to fight at your side.”

Fenris huffed and pressed his nose into Anders’ hair and Anders took that as a _yes_.


	12. Chapter 12

Consciousness came to Anders all at once. He startled awake with a gasp and reared up to sit on the bed. He heard it again - a horrible inhuman scream, torn from someone in immense pain.

Anders immediately looked for Fenris but the bed beside him was empty. The first rays of sunlight were peeking through the window and Anders understood. He threw the blankets aside and stumbled out of the bed. He let his feet carry him towards the noise, down the abandoned halls and dark passages.

A crash and a thud made him jump and the following scream tore at Anders’ heart. How could Fenris survive such pain? Pain that would rip those sort of vile noises from his throat?

Anders followed a set of stone steps down into the darkness of the cellars and there, among the shelves and broken bottles, lay Fenris, naked and curled in upon himself. Anders let the faint light from Fenris’ brands guide him and he tried to avoid the broken glass under his bare feet as best he could. The stinging pain told him he did a poor job of it, but a quick pulse of magic healed the cuts as he continued.

Fenris looked up, eyes reflecting the faint light in the room. His shoulders shook as he tried to push himself up on his hands. He didn’t flinch when Anders touched him, instead turned towards him and bowed his head, pale hair falling across his face.

“You go through this every month,” Anders said. He smoothed his hands over Fenris’ shoulders and into his hair and even if Fenris had resisted he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from drawing Fenris into his arms.

Fenris did not resist. He went willingly.

Magic curled from Anders’ fingers, seeking out the injured parts of Fenris’ body, the small cuts from the glass and the deep swelling from his body twisting to fit another shape. Fenris’ arms came up, hands clinging at the fabric of Anders’ tunic. He felt ice cold.

“We should get you upstairs. You need rest.”

Fenris’ fingers tightened.

Anders wasn’t sure what to say. This was Fenris, someone who bore his presence quietly at best. But it was also the same Fenris who had saved him from raiders, protected him from Templars, who had healed his wound and slept beside him all night long.

Anders felt an electric tingle surge through him as Fenris’ cold nose pushed up against his throat. He tried to look down but saw nothing except Fenris’ white hair. Fenris breathed deep, chest expanding in Anders’ hold, his nose pressed to the spot just below Anders’ jaw.

If Anders didn’t know better he would say Fenris was…smelling him.

Except the very idea was preposterous and he almost laughed at himself for thinking it, right up until Fenris inhaled again deeply and he pressed himself closer to Anders’ body.

Anders inhaled a shaky breath of his own. He should be the last person that Fenris would take comfort from. Hawke was much better suited to handling Fenris.

Fenris’ shoulders shook and Anders tried to look down again. Fenris still hadn’t said a word, likely still shaking the pain from his body after the grotesque transformation he was forced through at sunset and sunrise. Anders slowly moved his fingers at Fenris’ nape, scratching his nails against the short hairs there. He seemed to enjoy being petted as a wolf, so why not a man?

Anders was rewarded with a soft grumble of enjoyment. If Fenris was a cat, Anders might have called it a purr. He wasn’t so versed in canine creatures but he guessed the sound was similar in intent. The noise rose again from Fenris’ chest and throat and Anders felt Fenris’ nose push up against his neck once more, seeking his scent.

“Come upstairs now,” Anders said against Fenris’ hair. “I’d be happier if you did.”

As if Anders had voiced the magic words Fenris pulled away incrementally until all that remained were the hands curled into Anders’ tunic. Fenris looked up with bloodshot eyes, dark circles swelling beneath them. He nodded slowly.

A rush of affection ran through Anders, settling in his chest. He felt a bit foolish, really, feeling that swell of care, after all this time being at odds with Fenris. Varric would have placed coin on whether they could even have a civil conversation. And here he was holding Fenris in his dank basement after a night spent curled beside him as the werewolf no one else knew he was.

Anders stood carefully. There was still so little light he couldn’t see the broken glass and splintered wood on the ground. With a wave of his hand a gathering of wisps circled him. They lit up the area and cast an ethereal glow over Fenris’ bare skin. Anders had to look away, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. Right, Fenris was still naked. The barest Anders had ever seen him. And now was _not_ the time to start thinking about how attractive Fenris was.

He led Fenris across the cellar, avoiding the broken glass, the splinters, as much as possible. Fenris made no noise, didn’t flinch, so if he had injured himself Anders just didn’t know. But Anders knew he would be digging splinters out of his own toes later.

Fenris followed without word, without sound, feet dragging and his fingers still curled into Anders’ tunic. Anders didn’t want to think how long Fenris would have remained in that cold cellar if Anders hadn’t come for him. The pain in his body would have kept him from moving, the cold seeping into his bones the longer he lay there.

Fenris’ room was still warm from the fire that had burnt out that morning. The bed covers were thrown back where Anders had left them and it made ushering Fenris into the bed easier. Fenris sat as he was directed and Anders pulled the covers around his shoulders. He could see Fenris’ fingers and toes going pale with cold.

“I’ll stay. But you need sleep.”

Fenris looked up at him. His eyes were so red and Anders could see the dark bruising under his eyes that was just starting to fade. “You will stay?” Fenris asked finally, his voice grinding out through his strained throat.

Anders nodded. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

Fenris nodded and slowly he slipped down into the bed, pulling the covers over himself. He made a small sound of discomfort and rolled onto his side, still focused on Anders.

“Will you let me look at your feet? I bet they’re covered in splinters like mine. Don’t need those stuck in there.”

“They will not cause issues,” Fenris said.

“It will make me feel better.”

Fenris watched him for a moment, silent, and then he pulled up the covers to expose his feet. Anders didn’t want to think he had found the magic words to make Fenris do what he wanted but it was proving useful already.

Fenris flinched at the first touch to his feet but he let Anders inspect them. Sure enough, Anders could see the small pinpricks where splinters had pushed into Fenris’ skin, spots where glass was still poking through. The skin was red and sore looking but even as Anders watched he could see the flesh trying to heal itself. The foreign objects were being forced from Fenris’ flesh and it was simple to pluck out the splinters of wood and glass with his fingernails, even as short as Anders’ kept them trimmed.

Handling his own splinters wouldn’t be anywhere near as simple.

No healing magic was required, the cuts to Fenris’ skin closing all by themselves, leaving nothing behind except a flush of red and a slight swelling that was disappearing just as fast.

“Why did you never tell Hawke?” Anders asked, still holding Fenris’ foot, his thumb carefully moving across the skin of Fenris’ ankle. “He would have understood.”

Fenris scoffed.

“He would have. We all would have. I mean, Merrill is a maker-forsaken _blood mage_! Isabela is a pirate and a thief. I’m a possessed apostate mage. Werewolf would just be another weird item in Hawke’s collection.”

“I did not want to burden anyone.” Fenris curled his hand into the blanket, pulling it to his chin.

“It wouldn’t have been a burden. Hawke is your friend. He could have helped you.”

Fenris made another noise in disbelief but didn’t otherwise answer.

“You almost died…” Anders said.

“I was careless.”

“We could have lost you!” Anders held Fenris’ ankle tighter, tighter than he meant to. It actually meant something to him - the thought of losing Fenris. Despite their fighting, Fenris was a part of their…family.

“I did not expect the Carta members to be so organized in their pursuit of me. I was…” Fenris paused, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. “Something had driven me out that night again and they caught me unaware. They realized they were tracking a werewolf and they…armed themselves accordingly.”

Anders looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Silver. Their arrowheads were made of silver. Silver inhibits the healing process and I was unable to heal the wounds they inflicted.”

“The axe that caught you.”

“Yes. The arrow was still lodged in my flesh. I fled. The destruction you saw in this room was caused as I attempted to remove the arrowhead. I…panicked.”

Anders didn’t even notice as his hand stroked Fenris’ ankle and calf, soothing him unconsciously. If only Fenris had told them they could have helped him. He might have never been injured as he had. “When you change…you’re still you?”

“For the most part. My thoughts are more…animalistic. Simple. But I do not turn into some sort of…slobbering monster.”

Well at least that was synonymous with what Anders knew about werewolves. He had heard all about the werewolves in the Brecilian forest and encountered his own in the Blackmarsh. But Fenris was not at all like those creatures. Fenris changed into a wolf, not an amalgamation of wolf and man. Anders just didn’t know enough about werewolves to know whether that was a normal thing or not. He hadn’t exactly questioned the ones trying to claw him to death in the Blackmarsh.

“And you’ve been like this–”

“For as long as I can remember,” Fenris said. “I have no memories of my time before these markings but I believe you are correct in thinking that my nature was why Danarius chose me for his experiments. I was able to heal myself throughout the procedure. I do not believe I would have survived otherwise.”

“I don’t really know much about werewolves so I can’t really help with your lost memories about how you became this way. I could maybe smuggle some books out of the Circle? I’m sure there’s something there that might help.”

“It is not necessary. What is in the past is in the past. I cannot change it. It is what I am.”

Anders hummed. He would do his own research anyway, because he was like that, and maybe there was something that he could help Fenris with even if it was helping him avoid any further disaster.

“You said you would stay.” Fenris slowly lifted the edge of the blanket next to him.

“Oh, you want me to… I, yes, yes, that’s fine! I didn’t think you’d want to–”

“Just get up here, mage.”

Now that sounded more like the Fenris he knew. Anders moved up the bed and slipped under the covers next to Fenris. There was plenty of room for both of them on the bed yet Anders could feel Fenris pressed against his side, their arms and shoulders touching.

“How do you feel?” Anders asked. He stared up at the ceiling to avoid staring at Fenris.

“…fine. I am better. Tired.”

“Sleep, then. It will do you more good than any healing I could offer.”

Fenris made a small sound and then a sigh. The stiffness fell from his shoulders and Anders felt him relax next to him. He had no idea why Fenris wanted him to stay now that he was more in his right mind, but he did and Anders wasn’t going to turn him down now.

Maybe this was what they needed to turn their rocky relationship around.


	13. Chapter 13

“Anders…”

Anders clung to the blankets even as consciousness hassled him. He frowned. He could hear what sounded like growling. What sounded like Hawke’s voice. And–

Anders sat upright and threw the blankets aside. At the doorway Hawke was clinging to his staff so tight his fingers were white. Beside Anders, Fenris was growling deep in his throat. He had moved himself so that he mostly blocked Anders from Hawke’s view. The blankets had slipped free and he sat there entirely naked.

Hawke was looking between the two of them, his eyes wide. His mouth agape. 

“Hawke!” Anders raised his hands. This wasn’t what it looked like. He wanted to explain. Hawke’s staff clattered to the ground and Fenris made to rise from the bed, his brands humming.

Anders grabbed Fenris’ arm tight enough to bruise. “Don’t,” he said. He couldn’t allow Fenris to attack Hawke again.

“I didn’t want to believe you would be here,” Hawke said. He was staring at Fenris’ naked body without shame. “I understand now. Why you turned me down. Why didn’t you just tell me?” Hawke balled his hands into fists at his sides. His face had gone red, and Anders wasn’t sure if it was from anger, embarrassment, or something else.

“This is not what it looks like,” Anders said and Fenris snarled. It made Hawke jump, his eyes wide, but he stood his ground.

“Come on, Anders. Blight it, you’re in bed with him! Why didn’t you just say? Or did you enjoy making me look like a fool?” Hawke reached down and grabbed his staff from where he had let it fall.

Anders scrambled for the edge of the bed to follow him, to explain, but strong arms wrapped around his waist and held him tight. He struggled against Fenris’ hold. Useless, absolutely useless! Fenris wasn’t going to let him go.

“Fenris!” Anders cried and pushed at Fenris’ arms uselessly. “I’ve got to– Hawke is so upset!”

Fenris pulled Anders against him, tightening his arms around Anders’ waist as he buried his nose in Anders’ hair.

Anders slumped. They really had made a mess of things now. “All right,” he said. “I’m not leaving. I’ll…have to explain later. Somehow. Maker, what am I going to tell him?”

“You could start with why two Templars have been ripped to pieces outside the door,” Aveline said. She stepped over a wine bottle as she walked into the room. She looked them over, keen eyes obviously noting the position they were in and Fenris’ current state of undress. She frowned.

“I was attacked last night,” Anders said. Bloody Maker, what did he say, though? That the wolf had mutilated the Templars? Or that Fenris had assisted him and…got messy?

Luckily for him, Fenris chose that opportunity to speak up. “They had come to investigate my manor. Anders was unfortunate enough to have come to me last night to inspect my wounds. They would not leave and attacked.”

“And you ripped them apart?” Aveline asked, clearly suspicious. She folded her arms across her chestplate.

“…Justice!” Anders cried. “It was Justice.” He got an indignant cry from somewhere in his mind. Justice did not agree with being blamed or lying. “I was unable to control him. Fenris brought me up here to recover.”

Aveline hummed. She looked between them. It was a flimsy lie at best and Aveline clearly knew it. She raised an eyebrow at them and Anders could feel himself sweating.

“You’re lying but I’m not sure why,” Aveline said. “The bodies have been disposed of and the Templars notified. We have accredited the attack to the creature roaming Hightown.” Aveline leaned against the mantle, looking at the glowing embers in the hearth. “Whatever the truth is, the problem has been dealt with for now. But I don’t envy you for having to explain this to Hawke.”

Anders groaned. “It really isn’t what it looks like. Fenris was uh, injured! As was I. And I wasn’t about to go back onto the streets in the dead of night. So I stayed.”

“The idea of you two sleeping together is ridiculous, obviously, but Hawke is…sensitive. His feelings were dismissed and now he believes he knows why.”

“Can’t you talk with him?” Anders asked, all but begging her.

Aveline laughed. “I don’t think so. This is your problem. I dealt with the first one.” She pushed away from the fireplace and nodded to them both. “Make sure you handle it quickly.”

Anders waved her out. No help whatsoever! Hawke probably wouldn’t even speak to him now. Aveline would have been able to smooth things over.

“You can let go of me now,” Anders said. No wonder Aveline hadn’t believed a word they said with Fenris hanging onto him like a limpet.

Fenris unwound himself from Anders and sat back, watching him. “Hawke is in love with you,” he said, voice thin.

“Yes… Maker knows why! But I don't… Not like that, anyway. I knew my rejection would hurt him but he would get over it. Hawke is an attractive man with a lot to offer. I don’t need to be his only choice.”

Fenris’ hands twitched in his lap and he looked away. “You would not take his offer of a relationship to better your life?”

Anders snorted. “Of course not! It probably sounds stupid but I believe in love. I’ve been in love. I don’t want to be with someone for convenience and I wouldn’t hurt Hawke that way.”

Fenris was quiet for a moment, staring out the window, until in a small voice he mumbled, “I also believe in love.”

Anders looked at him, eyes wide. He blinked. Fenris was blushing! “Why, Fenris, I wouldn’t have thought you believed in romance! Do you believe in love at first sight–”

“Yes.”

Anders paused, his voice trailing off at the seriousness of Fenris’ tone. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about Fenris in that way much at all. He was always so grumpy and broody it was hard to even imagine Fenris enjoying himself in any way. Yes, he had lightened up a little over the years, but Fenris was still Fenris. A mage-hating, slaver-killing, broody elf.

“I am unsure of whether it is my own thoughts or that of the wolf inside of me,” Fenris said, words tumbling out. “Wolves mate for life. The desire for that bond is…strong. Especially when I take that form. I find myself restless.”

“Most people want someone to love…” Anders said. Thoughts of Karl flooded his mind. Karl had been his first love. His only love. Justice swept through his mind, a settling presence that kept his emotions at bay. It didn’t do to dwell on Karl.

“Every moon I found myself on the streets. It was maddening!” Fenris curled his hands into fists on his lap. He was staring at the blanket, hadn’t raised his head yet. “It put me in danger. From those who hunted me, to those who might expose me. I was so compelled to leave the manor.”

Anders frowned. “You said it _was_ maddening. Did…something happen to change that?”

Anders felt his heart thump in his chest as he saw the blush darkening Fenris’ cheeks and across his nose. Fenris curled his fingers into the blanket, pulling it over his lap, as if he was trying to retreat. He didn’t answer.

“Fenris…?” Anders asked. “You left your manor to find a mate. …did you?”

Fenris nodded. “The…the smell was everywhere. I knew. Or the wolf knew. Venhedis, I am not sure! It drove me mad. I thought… I thought it might be Hawke. The scent was all around his manor. I followed him discreetly and knew it was not. He did not smell right. But the scent was everywhere! Hightown and Lowtown and…I could not follow it further.”

Anders felt his tongue catch in his mouth, suddenly so dry that it felt like it was covered in sand. He tried to swallow but he had no saliva to moisten his mouth. He cleared his throat. “And the, ah…scent?”

Fenris looked up at Anders. His eyes were blown wide, dark, dark pupils swallowing up the green. He watched Anders, studying him. His ears twitched. “Darktown.”

His heart raced and Anders tried to swallow again. “And when you came to me in Hightown… When you saved me from the raiders, and the Templars…?”

Fenris opened his mouth but said nothing. He set his jaw and clenched his fingers tighter into the blankets.

“When you healed my wound, when you slept beside me, and when you follow my wishes…?”

“ _You_ are my mate, Anders. You.”


	14. Chapter 14

Anders let out a surprised laugh. Loud and sudden enough that he clapped his hands over his mouth in shock, staring at Fenris’ bleak face.

This had to be a joke.

Fenris didn’t look like he was joking.

Anders slowly lowered his hands from his face. “I… But…how? That’s ridiculous, Fenris! I mean, you’re _you_ and I’m _me_!” As if that didn’t make the world of difference already.

Fenris’ already sour face took a turn, even more dour than it had been. “Do you think I somehow chose this?” he asked.

“But surely you have some sort of control over it!”

Fenris curled his fingers into his palms and Anders could imagine he was digging his nails into the flesh. “If there is someway to control it then I do not know of one. I have never…felt this before. When I first came to Kirkwall there was…a pull. Something that bore into my mind every full moon. It became stronger when I met Hawke and…” He looked up at Anders and the rest was left unsaid.

Anders felt uncertainty pluck at his chest. If he and Fenris had any kind of prior interest in those sort of feelings then Anders wouldn’t mind so much that an instinct progressed them, but as it stood Fenris had no desire to be anything but the most casual of friends with him. Anders was inclined to believe that was the perfect place for their relationship to stay. While they had gone a long way from seeking each other’s heads on a pike, the more time they spent in each other’s company usually meant more arguments.

“And how do you feel about…everything?” Anders asked.

Fenris huffed. “I am unsure. The feelings are mine yet they are not! It is something that comes from inside of me, from a part of me, but is not me. I do not know how to reconcile the two.”

Anders kept his mouth clamped shut but the similarities hit him full force. He experienced the same type of duality with Justice. They were his thoughts, yet not his thoughts, perhaps his thoughts multiplied, or turned into something else, yet he never had any way of knowing. The longer he and Justice had been joined, the harder it had become to differentiate his thoughts from Justice’s when it came to subjects that riled them both.

And as if in agreeance Anders felt a swell of emotion from Justice, the same sense of deep understanding that had settled Anders.

He would never compare their feelings, though. Fenris would likely tear his heart out if Anders so much as alluded to him being like a possessed mage.

“So…what do we do?” Anders asked. It was the obvious questions. They couldn’t just go on like they had before. Fenris had been dealing with this alone for some time and now that Anders knew, there was no just going back.

“I do not know,” Fenris said. He let out a long sigh, drooping visibly, the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I do not understand what I want from you. My instinct is to be near you, to protect you. Being around you settles me to my core. And I…” He cast a quick look at Anders as the tips of his ears pinkened. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to share, but Anders could take a few good guesses.

“You were jealous of Hawke–”

“I was protecting what is mine!” Fenris snapped and then reared back. The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think. “I…I… That is not my place. I apologise. I did not–” Fenris huffed.

Anders felt a wave of compassion for Fenris. This was obviously hard for him. Whatever situation this left Anders in, it didn’t trouble him anywhere near how Fenris was suffering. “It’s all right, Fenris. Let’s just try keep from mauling Hawke in the future any time he looks at me, okay?”

Fenris’ ears drooped further.

Anders carefully reached out and slid his hand into Fenris’, uncurling his fingers. Fenris looked up, eyes wide, and then looked at their joined hands. A look of open wonder crossed his face and Anders smiled.

“See, now this isn’t so bad.”

Fenris breathed in a stuttering breath and Anders once again wondered what he was feeling. Clearly not the same as Anders himself felt.

“If there’s no way to change this then we just have to deal with it the best we can. Maybe we can spend some more time together? No one else has to know. Just us.”

Fenris was still looking at their joined hands. Slowly his fingers tightened around Anders’ hand and he looked up. “No one will know?”

“Nope! I promised I wouldn’t tell. And everyone would be suspicious if we suddenly started spending time together without arguing. Think of it like…healer’s orders. You will spend time with me until progress can be made.”

“And what progress would that be?” Fenris asked.

“I suppose it’ll be a surprise to both of us!”

Fenris didn’t look convinced but he still hadn’t removed his hand from Anders’, and the pink tinge of color was still prickling the points of his ears, the dark skin a red blush. “Why would you do this?”

Anders raised his eyebrows. “Well…because I guess I don’t hate you. And I don’t want to see a friend suffering.”

“A…friend?”

Anders nodded. “A friend. Do you think we can be friends?”

Fenris was silent, as if mulling the thought over in his mind. He looked at Anders, looked him in the eyes - a hard thing for Fenris to do - and he squeezed Anders’ fingers again. “I would like that.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> assassin-swede asked for _“I’d love to see how the situation with Hawke is resolved. Does he keep thinking they’re a couple? Does anders and fenris explain it?”_ which fit perfectly with this part of the story. I had to think about Hawke and what I wanted for him in the future but I’m glad I came to a decision

Anders tightened his fingers around his staff, leaning against it heavily. Hawke’s door loomed ahead of him. As it had done for the past ten minutes. He was glad sheltered like this in the alcove no one could see him standing there looking stupid.

He knew he had to speak with Hawke. They couldn’t leave things like they had this morning. Anders wasn’t going to be responsible for tearing their group apart, not over a…misunderstanding.

The nagging pit in his stomach that told him that wasn’t quite true was forgotten about.

Anders banged the knocker and took a deep, fortifying breath.

“Yes, oh? Messere Anders! How good to see you. Come in, come in.”

Anders was ushered in by Bodahn. It was nice and warm inside and smelled of whatever delicious food Orana was cooking for lunch.

“I assume Hawke is here?” Anders asked.

Bodahn frowned and then nodded. “Afraid he is, Messere. Came back in a right of a mood. Oh, Sandal, say hello to our guest!”

“Hullo.”

Anders smiled, but he knew it was weak at best. “Hello, Sandal. I hope you’re both well. I don’t suppose Hawke may have…told you anything?”

“Not a word. Stormed up to his room and slammed the door. Thought he would snap it right off the hinges. I’m so glad you’re here! You’re always the best when it comes to Master Hawke.”

“I don’t think he really wants to see me.”

“Nonsense! Nonsense! Master Hawke always wants to see you. Now you go on up there and talk him out. I think Orana is making his favorite pot pie for lunch.”

Anders gave another watery smile and slipped away. Sandal waved at him. Anders knew the Amell manor well, familiar with all the decorations and rooms. He usually thought of it as a comforting space. He stopped in front of Hawke’s bedroom door. He felt anything but comforted.

“Hawke…?”

Anders jumped back instinctively when something crashed against the inside of the door, shattering. Well, Hawke knew he was here.

“Hawke, please, let’s just talk. I’m not going to leave it like this, you know.”

“Piss off!”

Anders sighed. Not a good start. “Hawke, please. At least let me in. If you want to throw something at me, I’ll try to duck.”

There was a pause and Anders held his breath, waiting to be chewed out or for another crash of breaking china. Neither came. Well, he couldn’t put it off. Anders carefully tested the doorknob - unlocked - and opened the door.

Hawke’s room was not quite the mess Anders thought it would have been. Apart from the shattered jug by the door and the general mess Hawke made of his wardrobes and bed during the night and in the morning, nothing had been touched. Anders carefully stepped over the broken china, reminding himself to apologise to Bodahn and Orana later.

Hawke glanced up from where he sat on the edge of the bed. He held Anders’ gaze for a moment and then stared at the carpet by the bed, as if it had personally offended him and his children.

“Thank you for not throwing anything else at me,” Anders said.

“Yeah, well, I’m still thinking about it.”

“Can I sit?” Anders asked.

Hawke pointed at the comfy chair by the window facing the bed. It was Hawke’s favorite spot to read, his latest book still open on the arm.

Anders knew Hawke well. He knew there was no chance of Hawke attacking him. Throwing the jug had been momentary rage directed at an inanimate object with no chance of hurting anyone except maybe himself. Hawke very rarely lashed out, and never at anyone else, even annoying noblemen or people that thought his gentle nature made him a pushover. Hawke was friendly and charismatic, and violence was usually a last resort.

“I know you’re hurting…” Anders started. He carefully closed the book and placed it on the end table. “But I’m being honest when I say it’s not what it seemed like.”

“You and Fenris were in bed. Fenris was naked. What else is there left to interpret?”

“I wasn’t naked, was I? Fully dressed, even! I was injured when the Templars attacked me. They cut me off from my magic. If I hadn’t gone up with Fenris I would have likely passed out from blood loss. Fenris helped me.”

“And somehow helping you involves getting naked?”

Anders pursed his lips. Yes, well, that bit was a little harder to explain. “I wasn’t the only one injured. Fenris was covered in blood and you know how he is with healing. And he’s not even over what happened. He just about passed out in the bathtub. I had to drag him out and to bed. And uhh…I didn’t want to sleep on the floor.”

Hawke was watching him now. Hawke had never been very good at picking up lies; it’s why Isabela always beat him at cards. It’s why Dog beat him at cards. “Is Fenris all right?” he asked.

Anders stopped himself from sighing in relief. “He’s fine. He’s still getting his strength back from last month. You know that’s why you haven’t taken him with you as often. But he’s doing much better and when my mana returned I could heal us both. Couldn’t do much about the two dead Templars…”

“Aveline dealt with them. No one will cast blame on any of us.” Hawke curled his hand into his tunic. “Anders…you and Fenris…?”

This was it. Anders bit the inside of his cheek. He would have to tell Hawke something. Who knew what would happen in the future and Fenris had been clinging to him like a limpet. He had attacked Hawke for kissing him! “I…I don’t know, Hawke. Honestly. You know how we are but lately… But I swear to you, this is only recent. And it has nothing to do with…you and I. With that. Between us.”

“Nothing has happened between you two?” Hawke asked, looking skeptical.

“No. We talked a bit. We’ve been talking. Fenris trusted me to care for him when he was injured. I just don’t know.”

“…but you like him.”

Anders felt his belly swoop and an uncomfortable knot formed in his chest. Did he? Yes…he supposed he did. He had always been attracted to Fenris, but he had been so tetchy and was often rude and they had bickered all the time, but when that stopped he found that he actually enjoyed Fenris’ company.

A little part inside of him repeated the word - mate. _Mate_. He was Fenris’ mate. And it didn’t exactly scare him.

“We’re trying to be friends. There’s a lot of history between us but I think it can work.”

“It would be nice to be able to take you both out without you arguing the entire way,” Hawke said and a small smile twitched his lips.

Anders felt another swell of affection. He loved Hawke, as a friend, as the big brother he could barely remember. He never wanted to hurt Hawke. He couldn’t stand seeing him upset. He let himself smile back.

“I’m sorry I threw a jug at you…” Hawke said.

“Don’t think about it. Besides, you threw it at the door. Maybe you should apologise to the door?”

“Or at least Bodahn when he has to clean it up,” Hawke said. “Maker…mother will give me a right earful.”

Anders stood and changed positions so that he could sit next to Hawke on the edge of the bed. Hawke shifted closer until their thighs and shoulders touched and then he rested his head on Anders.

Anders buried his fingers in Hawke’s hair. This close he could see Hawke’s eyes were red and swollen. “I promise…whatever happens…I would never let it come between our friendship,” Anders said.

“It shouldn’t have to,” Hawke protested. “It’s my fault…flying off like that. You’d already made…us…clear. If you and Fenris want to…Maker’s arse, I can’t even imagine you two but if you want to, then that’s your choice. I’m not going to stand in the way or hold it against either of you.”

Anders threw his arms around Hawke and hugged him, feeling the tears spring to his own eyes. He didn’t know what he’d do without Hawke. Hawke hugged him back, enveloping him in his big bear arms and holding tight. Anders laughed at Hawke squished him, flailing in the big man’s grasp.

“Mercy! Mercy!” Anders cried and Hawke did let him go, but not before one last squash that made Anders squeak.

“Do you want to stay for lunch?” Hawke asked. “I think I smell Orana’s pot pie.”

“I’m so hungry I could chase down an archdemon,” Anders said. “Warden appetite and all.”

They stood and left the room, both gingerly stepping over the broken china at the doorway. On the landing they could hear Bodahn talking to someone else.

“Oh, right…I hope you don’t mind sharing a meal with Sebastian,” Hawke said. He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “I forgot I invited him.”

“Ugh, as long as he doesn’t lecture me,” Anders said.

“No, no, I promise he will behave. We’ve been discussing the refugees in the city and how the Chantry should handle them. He’s really keen to make a difference, you know. Give him a chance.”

Anders screwed up his nose but followed Hawke downstairs to meet Sebastian. Anders found it hard to believe that Sebastian wanted to help. The Chantry thought themselves above the poor and the sick and the helpless.

“Hawke, how good to see you,” Sebastian said, turning from Bodahn. He smiled and Hawke hurried over. They shook hands and Hawke squeezed Sebastian’s shoulder as he steered him into the manor.

“Anders is staying for lunch. Maybe you can discuss the clinic with him! Anders helps so many of the Fereldan refugees there.”

Anders gave Sebastian a curt nod and was surprised when Sebastian smiled at him, too. He seemed…happier. Maybe he was working that stick out, finally.

“I hear from Hawke you do good work in your clinic. There are many that need help, especially during these times.”

“Well some people can’t go to the Chantry for help,” Anders said curtly.

Hawke looked at him and frowned. Right, right, playing nice.

“I do what I can,” Anders said.

“If ye be needing supplies, I can see to delivering some from the Chantry stock.”

Anders blinked and his mouth opened but he didn’t make a sound. Not until Hawke stepped on his boot. “Oh um…yes! That would be good. We ahh…we run out of a lot of things, especially when there’s an outbreak of choke damp or the weather turns.”

“Aye, understandably. Hawke, you could join me in the Chantry supply house to assist me? You know what Anders needs and the Chantry is not so quick to dismiss Kirkwall’s Champion. I doubt it is safe for Anders.”

Anders followed them into the dining room, listening to Sebastian talk to Hawke. It was one thing to offer up supplies, to be nice and generous to Anders, but to admit that Anders wouldn’t be safe in the Chantry? The world must be coming to an end! He watched Hawke laugh, his face lighting up at one of Sebastian’s quips.

Maybe what Sebastian needed all this time was a friend? Hawke deserved as many of them as he could get.

Hawke deserved to be happy.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been slack when it comes to uploading chapters here. They’ve been on my Tumblr for quite a while. My apologies.

Anders held onto his staff tighter as they trekked along the coastline. They had been out here for hours taking on Tal-Vashoth warriors and raiders and Anders was tired - no, he was exhausted. He could barely feel his feet any more. How Hawke remained so chipper was a feat in itself.

“Hawke, dear, are we ever going to break for camp tonight?” Isabela asked. Even she was beginning to look a little parched and her skin had darkened from the sun considerably.

Hawke put his hands on his hips and faced them. He gave them all a once over and sighed. “I guess. I was hoping to get back to Kirkwall tonight but I don’t think we’re going to make it.”

“Thank the Maker,” Anders said. He wiped his forehead and leaned back against one of the skeletal trees that marred the coastline.

“I would not suggest making our way back to Kirkwall in the dark,” Fenris said. He had already dropped his pack and was shuffling around for his canteen. Anders could see a tinge to the tips of his ears from sunburn.

“Well, we’ll set up camp, then. There’s a secluded clearing just around the last bend. It will give us protection from behind.”

Anders was more than happy to go through the motions of setting up camp, gathering water and wood and starting the fire, raising their tents and unrolling blankets. There was a clear end in mind where he could collapse into one of those bedrolls and sleep. It made him push that last bit before he all but fell over in front of the fire.

Fenris’ arms came up and steadied him. Anders gave him a soft smile and sat next to him in the dirt. “I’m okay,” he said. “Long day.”

“You may have final watch,” Fenris said.

“It would be so much nicer for all involved if no one would attack anyone during the night. We could all get some sleep. Even Darkspawn need sleep… I think… Do they?”

A small smile quirked the corners of Fenris’ lips and he looked away at the fire. “I would assume they do.”

“See! Everyone could get a good night’s sleep and feel more refreshed for the pillaging in the morning.”

“What’s this about pillaging?” Isabela asked and flopped into the dirt on the other side of the fire.

“We were talking about Darkspawn,” Anders said.

“Oh, boo. They never have anything good. Though I always do wonder at the ones carrying coin. Do they use it? Or is it just shiny and they are easily amused?” Isabela asked, tapping her finger to her chin. “Never mind, I suppose it’s not important. Hawke! You have first watch since you’re so spritely.”

Hawke gave her a thumbs up, juggling the wood he had gathered in his arms to do so.

They made dinner in near silence. There wasn’t much but a bit of warm stew was better than hard bread and cheese. Anders remembered plenty of nights on the run from Templars where a bit of warm stew would have meant the world to him. He had gone hungry many, many nights.

“You are thinking,” Fenris said, not looking up from his bowl and the last of his meal.

“Yes, I do that.”

Fenris huffed. “Not often enough,” he replied.

Anders screwed up his face. They were tired and bickering still came naturally to them. But Fenris was trying. He really had been trying. And Anders owed it to him to try, too.

“I was just thinking…when I escaped from the Circle…I spent so many nights going hungry and cold. Sometimes a rock leaning the right way was all the cover offered.”

Fenris chewed on a chunk of tough meat, but he looked up at Anders. He fiddled with his spoon and Anders waited. Sometimes, with Fenris, you had to wait until he felt comfortable.

“I… There were many nights I spent in the cold. I was unused to Southern seasons, underdressed, I had no coin until I could divest Danarius’ men of theirs. I never questioned my decision to run.”

“Neither did I. I would rather starve in a cold cave than sit in the false security the Circle offered.”

“The mages are fed and clothed, are they not?”

Anders felt a spike of Justice’s contempt rise inside of him but he tamped it down forcibly. “Sometimes. The Templars were not above denying us meals if they thought we had earned a harsh punishment. Meals in solitary were nothing more than some bread and water. And sometimes I was too weak to even eat that.”

Fenris hummed. “Hadriana enjoyed tormenting me. She would take my food, hound my sleep, waiting for me to slip so that she might punish me further. She was often far crueler than Danarius…at least in her punishment.”

Anders had ideas about what Danarius had done to Fenris, simply based on what little the elf told them and what Anders knew of cruel men. Fenris may not bear scars like the ones on his own back, but the cruelty Danarius exhibited was carved into his flesh.

Isabela swaggered back to her tent (though even her swagger was looking a little tired) and waved to them as she yawned. “Do get some sleep, boys. Don’t spend all night canoodling like you are.”

Fenris flinched back away from Anders. He had been leaning close as they spoke, soft voices between them. Fenris looked towards Isabela and then back at Anders, eyes wide and that stern expression settled back on his face.

“We are not ‘canoodling’, Isabela. Now go to bed.”

“Right… Night, lovebirds!”

Fenris thumped his bowl down and stood, clearly meaning to flee. Anders reached up and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay,” he said. “Don’t worry about her, she’s just ribbing you. You get flustered so easily.”

Fenris frowned, still looking towards Isabela’s tent.

“We could go to your tent…? It’s quieter and there are fewer prying eyes.”

Hawke was perched in a tree near their camp, scouting the horizon, and Isabela was snug in her tent. Fenris bit at his lip.

Anders waited.

It was always best to wait.

Fenris finally nodded, just a small tilt of his head before he slipped his hand free of Anders’ and made his way to his tent. Anders grinned, despite Fenris not being able to see it. If they were going to make any sort of progress, even just become friends, they had to work at it.

Fenris unclasped his armor, setting it aside with his sword. There was just enough room for the two of them in the tent, pressed closer than Fenris would normally feel comfortable with. But he didn’t object, didn’t even acknowledge it when Anders bumped him or brushed against him as he removed his jacket and boots.

“How long were you on the run before Kirkwall?” Anders asked. Fenris had been willing to speak of it, so his mood seemed agreeable.

“Months… I could hardly believe so much time had passed when I got to Kirkwall. I could not run forever.”

“And you set a trap.”

Fenris rubbed at his calves through his leathers, massaging the aches from his muscles. “And yet I am still here, waiting, hunted.”

“I understand the feeling.” Anders chanced to look up at Fenris, who was staring at him, as if he didn’t quite understand his own feelings. Anders knew Fenris balked at their situations being comparable but he was saying nothing.

“…the Wardens will come for you,” Fenris said.

“I suspect so. At some point. I didn’t really leave a lot of clues as to where I went but anyone with an ounce of sense will know I came to Kirkwall for Karl. The Wardens were just a…pitstop.”

“And what will they do when they find you?”

Anders pushed back his hair, pulling the tie out and ruffling it, shaking free sand and sighing as the pressure on his head was relieved. “I’m not sure. People don’t run away from the Wardens. You can’t unjoin. Once you’re a Warden…you’re there for life.”

“No one has deserted?”

“If they did, I’m sure they were killed.” Anders pursed his lips as he felt Justice’s hot rage in his mind. There were plenty of reasons why someone might need to leave the Warden’s, nobler goals than fighting Darkspawn until your lonely death in the Deep Roads.

“Was the Warden Commander not your friend?”

Anders flopped backwards and his head hit the pillow there. Fenris gave him an incredulous look that Anders waved away. He was tired and sore and if they were going to have this little chat together he wanted to be comfortable.

“The Warden Commander and I have known each other for many…many years. She was there when I was brought to the Circle, even though she was younger than me. Sometimes it’s still hard to believe that small girl with braids is the Hero of Ferelden, Slayer of the Archdemon, and Warden Commander of the Grey.”

“And Hawke’s cousin.”

Anders smiled. “That, too. It must be something in those Amell’s. Rebellious nature and a hero attitude.”

“Did…other mages ever escape?” Fenris asked.

Anders closed his eyes. He could remember the faces of those who tried. Those who were beaten, those who were killed…those made Tranquil.

He could still see Karl’s face and the horrible sun branded into his flesh.

“I was lucky,” Anders said. He was here. He was alive. He was himself.

Anders jumped when he felt Fenris’ fingers touch his own. Slowly, Fenris tried again and slid his hand into Anders’, clasping their fingers together.

“Then we were both lucky.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Emesis/vomit

Anders just about choked on his cider.

Hawke gave him a surprised look and Isabela whacked Anders on the back several times as he coughed.

Maker, his nose burned now! Snorting out liquid through one’s nostrils was never a good idea. Though Hawke had once done it to gross out Aveline…

“You actually want to go out on the full moon?” Anders rasped through his sore throat.

“Well…yeah? All those rumors of big wolves seem to have disappeared and the Carta were bragging about taking it down so I don’t see why not,” Hawke said.

“Besides, one little wolf is hardly cause for alarm,” Isabela said. “It’s just a wolf.”

“It was apparently very large with very large teeth,” Merrill said, but she didn’t look at all worried.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea…” Anders looked towards Fenris, who was seemingly ignoring them all as he spoke with Sebastian across the table. He had only looked up once when Anders had tried to hack up his lungs.

“We will be fine, you’ll see! And I need you to come with me, Anders. It’s…y’know…’magey’.” Hawke cast his own look towards Fenris.

“And we can’t do this another night? It has to be tomorrow night?” Anders asked.

“I don’t see why you’re so worried. If you’re really dead set against coming then–”

“No!” Anders blurted out. If he didn’t go, it would look far too suspicious. He had no reason for denying Hawke. And if Hawke was out during the night then there was a good chance he might stumble across Anders heading to Fenris’ mansion or home to Darktown. And what if one of them was injured and came looking for Anders at the clinic? No, it was much too risky.

“Well, then it’s settled. We’ll stop by at dusk and collect you, okay? Take a nap in the afternoon or something because man, Anders, you look like you’re about to fall off the perch.”

“I’ve always thought Anders looked like a bird, what with those feathers!” Merrill said and clapped her hands together. “A pretty sparrow, perhaps! Or maybe a raven, since the feathers are dark…”

“Blondie does have a rather bird-like appearance.” Varric tapped his own nose and then grinned when Anders frowned. “No offense!”

“None taken…” Anders folded his arms, only to unfold them and rub self-consciously at his nose. He knew he had quite the beak but being compared to a bird was a bit much!

“The mage looks quite stately,” Fenris said. “Lord-like.”

Isabela cooed. “Oh, Fenris, you do care about him!”

“Or maybe coming from the elf that’s an insult,” Varric said. They both looked at Fenris but he wasn’t giving anything else away.

“Well, me and my stately nose are going home,” Anders said and stood with his staff. “Things to do, you know.”

“At least we got some food into you,” Varric said.

Anders nodded his head in thanks and waved to the group before shuffling out. It was still early enough that he could pick up those new bottles from the vendor, and maybe the fresh embrium had come in.

The streets were still full of patrons, coming and going between the stalls, elven servants with baskets full of laundry or food hurrying back up to Hightown before dark. Anders sometimes wondered what Justice would have been like had he joined with someone else, say, Velanna. Right now they would probably be burning Hightown to the ground.

Fenris must find it difficult to live in Hightown, even as hidden as he was. He cut an intimidating figure with his massive sword and furious expression but he was still an elf and any noble would assume he was a servant. …or a slave.

Anders stopped at the herbalist first and picked up the bunches of embrium he had asked for. They weren’t cheap but he paid for the quality when it came to the plant. With so many cases of choke damp good quality flowers would serve him better than those half dead.

Anders scratched the back of his head and turned. No one untoward around. Not even a pickpocket. He rubbed at his neck again and thanked the herbalist. There were plenty of people around but all of a sudden he felt…nervous.

Justice murmured in his mind about being vigilant at all times. It was always good advice, especially when you were an apostate mage. But there was no sign of Templars, nor Guards, not even the ones that believed they could hide if they wore common clothing. They always gave themselves away.

He continued on to the glassmaker, who had a small house in Lowtown near the Foundries. The stench was overwhelming and Anders brought up the slip of fabric at his neck to cover his mouth and nose. The smell was always a mixture of metals, fats and meat and blood, unwashed bodies and sewage. He didn’t venture here if he didn’t have to.

He glanced behind himself quickly as he stepped into the small house. The street was empty.

“Anders!” The glassmaker was a skinny man, even frailer than Anders looked, but with strong sinewy arms. All around him were glasses and bottles and other vessels and ornaments he had been making.

“Anthony, you have my order?” Anders felt the weight drop off his shoulders now that he was inside. Safe, for the most part.

“Right here, all wrapped for you.” The glass bottles were wrapped in linen and boxed in a crate for Anders to carry. He preferred this store just for the care Anthony took.

“You haven’t seen any…you-know-who’s around, have you?”

Anthony looked at him and then quickly over his shoulder toward the door, as if a stream of Templars might march in as if summoned. “Not around these parts. Are you being followed?”

Anders touched his neck again. It was as if he could feel the eyes on him. “I’m probably being over cautious.”

“Not a bad thing. I added one extra - no charge for you. I hope they serve you well.”

Anders paid the not-small amount of coin for the bottles and took his packages back out into the streets. He had to hold his breath, only taking small gulps of air through his mouth when he absolutely had to just to get back to Lowtown. The smell would follow him all day, he just knew it.

The street narrowed and Anders paused at the sound of coughing, and then retching. Bit early to be drunk, but Lowtown and the Docks were full of drunks no matter what the time. Anders kept walking, head held high as if to ignore the poor soul, and that was when he caught sight of white hair and a big sword.

Fenris was leaning against the wall, throwing his guts up into the dirt, hand clenched on his stomach.

“You didn’t drink that much,” Anders said from where he stood several feet away.

Fenris made a mournful noise and hurled up what must have been the last of his lunch.

Something akin to fondness curled through Anders and he gave Fenris a soft smile. “Here,” he said and held out his handkerchief, juggling the crate on one hip to steady his load.

Fenris didn’t move at first but after a moment he shuffled closer, hand shaking as he took the hanky to wipe his mouth.

“Are you ill with something? I can help.”

Fenris made another mournful noise and shuffled closer. Anders didn’t move, let Fenris get as close as he wanted until the elf was right there in front of him, leaning closer…only to rear back at the last moment and cough into the hanky.

“You stink!” Fenris bemoaned, eyes screwed shut and nose wrinkled.

“Yes, I am a smelly sewer mage, I’ve heard it all before.” Anders rolled his eyes. His smell didn’t usually bother Fenris. In fact, it seemed to be rather enticing.

“No…” Fenris looked up. “The foundries… The smell is…potent.”

Anders paused, looking at Fenris suspiciously. It dawned on him all of a sudden. “You were following me!”

Fenris gave another low groan but nodded.

“And the smell of the foundries—”

“This close to the full moon my senses are heightened considerably. I was not expecting…such a reaction.”

“Would you like me to help?” Anders wiggled his fingers as they glowed a soft blue.

He knew to wait. Waiting with Fenris was part of being friends, or not-enemies, with him. Fenris stared at Anders’ fingers and finally nodded and bowed his head closer. It only took a brief touch and a surge of magic to ease the nausea. Fenris’ brands thrummed in response to the push of magic before dulling against his skin.

“You have my thanks,” Fenris said. He looked at the hanky before sliding it into one of the pouches at his waist.

“My pleasure. Umm…so, following me?”

Fenris had the good sense to look ashamed.

“Another full moon thing, then?”

“I did not mean to follow you when I left but I caught your scent and before I could stop myself I found I was behind you. I apologise.”

Anders sighed but smiled. “Here, carry this for me. If you’re going to follow me, you may as well do it by my side.”

Fenris took the crate but he couldn’t look up at Anders. A slight tinge darkened his ears at the tips and Anders could feel himself grinning.

“Ah, mage— Anders. Would you… I would like it if you… _Kaffas_! Why is this so difficult?”

Anders touched Fenris’ shoulder and Fenris jumped, causing the bottles in the crate to clink together until he steadied them. “If you want something, you may ask. Go ahead. Try.”

Fenris wrinkled his nose. He didn’t look at Anders. Couldn’t. “Would you like to bathe using my facilities. Your smell is…”

“Yes, I stink. Even I agree. I would be delighted, Fenris! What a generous offer.”

“You mock me.”

“No, I’m being entirely sincere. I hate going to the foundries and the smell lingers all night and day. Try sleeping when all you can smell is hog fat and sewage. Very unpleasant. I would pay you to use your bath.”

“Payment is unnecessary.”

“Good, because after buying those supplies, I’m broke. Let’s go then, before the smell really permeates and you can’t stand to be in my presence.”

“I can only barely stand it usually.”

Anders laughed. “So witty, you are! We must tell Varric you tell jokes. He’d love it.”

“He would be jealous they might be better than his own,” Fenris said with a sly smile.

Anders burst out laughing again and missed the way Fenris’ expression softened. Fond and wanting.


	18. Chapter 18

“I’m sorry I have to leave you,” Anders said.

Fenris was stalking back and forth by the window, watching the sun slipping closer and closer to the horizon. When the moon rose, he would be pulled into his transformation. Anders winced just at the thought. He wanted to be there for Fenris, wanted to help soothe him in the way only he seemed to be able. But he promised Hawke and if he didn’t go then the group might get suspicious, especially if they came looking for him.

“I have gone through this for many years without you,” Fenris said sharply.

“And you needn’t now. If I can help then I want to.”

“You cannot,” Fenris snapped. Anders could see the lengthening of his teeth.

He stood and slowly came closer. Fenris wouldn’t hurt him intentionally but at the moment he was walking on glass, ready to lash out at anything or anyone. But as soon as he got close Fenris made a low rumbling noise and swayed closer.

“I am sorry,” Anders said. He said nothing when Fenris rested his head on his shoulder.

“I admit to wanting your company tonight. But I cannot have it and I will survive.”

“That’s something. …I best go, before it does get late. Hawke is expecting me at dusk.”

Fenris nodded against Anders’ feathered pauldron before pulling back and away, curling in on himself as he shuffled back to the wall near the window.

“You’ll go to the cellar?” Anders asked. Fenris nodded. Anders wouldn’t get anything else from him tonight. He turned to leave but paused last minute. Fenris was soothed by his company, by his scent. He rested his staff against the wall and carefully pulled off his small outer jacket, feathers ruffling. It left his undercoat sleeveless and colder but he held out the feathered piece to Fenris.

“Mage…”

“Take it. It will help. I’ll say I tore it and it needs to be repaired.”

Fenris snapped up the article of clothing and held it close to his chest, lowering his face to snuffle at the feathers. His inhibitions were lowered as the wolf surged to the front of his mind. He acted on instinct alone.

“I will return in the morning,” Anders said and he left. Fenris made a small noise of need and Anders ignored it the best he could.

It was already a strange situation. To have Fenris want him, want to spend time with him and be close to him and Maker only knew what else he wanted and how far the wolf would push him. They weren’t ready for anything more yet. They were barely friends! Anders wasn’t about to be his…mate.

_Mate_. The word caught in his throat as he trekked back down to Lowtown.

By the time he reached his clinic it was dusk, the darkness settling over the streets. The moon rose in the sky and Anders could feel his heart in his throat. Would he be able to hear Fenris’ howls of agony from here?

The only thing he heard was Hawke, Isabela, and Merrill venturing through Darktown to his clinic.

“Hello, sweetie. Now, what has you all in a tizzy?” Isabela asked, her hands on her shapely hips.

“Oh, Anders! Where are your feathers? You look all sad and small!” Merrill said.

“I, uhh…I tore my jacket. I’ll fix it when I have a chance. I don’t have another to wear but it’s warm, I’ll be fine.”

“You really should let me buy you something else to wear. Some new shirts, maybe? And some new trousers - those ones are almost worn through! How about some socks? I bet you need socks.”

“I don’t need anything, Hawke. These are just fine.”

“But you’d look so pretty in some nice clothes…” Hawke pouted.

“You used to be such a peacock,” Isabela said. “Did you know he had piercings?” She turned to Hawke.

“No… really? Where?”

“Just an ear—”

“Well there was one in his—”

“Isabela!” Anders snapped.

“Poo. Fine. Be no fun. Your secret is safe with me.”

At least until she got some ale into her and her and Hawke started discussing it again. Anders sighed. “Well, where are we going tonight that is so important?”

“We are following the trail of a maybe killer. See, Isabela and I spoke to Sir Emeric about some women disappearing. He suspects something is linked and we have a lead.”

“And you suspect mages?”

“Well, he suspects mages. He is a Templar, I’d say they all suspect mages.” Hawke shrugged.

“And where are we off to?”

“The foundries,” Merrill said and wrinkled her nose. “I just hate going there!”

Anders agreed. And he had only just got the smell out of his hair with the aid of Fenris’ bath. “Okay. Off to the foundries we go.”

Hawke beamed and linked his arm with Anders and Isabela. Merrill was swept up by Isabela and they continued out into Darktown.

* * *

 

Really, it was a good idea to suspect mages. This was Kirkwall. There seemed to be more blood mages here than in all of Ferelden put together. Anders let out a sheet of ice, freezing the demon that swiped at him. Growing roots surged up out of the ground and smashed the iced creature and Merrill waved at him from across the room.

“He’s getting away!” Isabela cried. She leapt at another shade and then danced aside as sharp claws shot out towards her.

“On it!” Hawke jumped past two shades grouping towards him and followed the man out of the room. Anders groaned. Hawke was their heavy hitter in this party and he just fled the room chasing down a blood mage.

A rage demon swelled up from the ground, roaring into life. Anders could feel the heat from its body prickling at his skin. He let loose another wave of ice to stop the creature, however temporarily, it its tracks.

Merrill let out a cry and Anders looked up as she was knocked back by a shade. Isabela jumped to her rescue, her twin blades sinking into the demon as she grappled it to the ground.

Anders reared back as a fiery fist reached out to grasp him. He spun his staff, slashing at the rage demon with the knifed end. It howled and its huge arms swung at him.

It howled.

No… it was not howling at all.

Anders felt a fiery fist connect with his chest and he was flung back against the stairs where he stumbled to the ground. He held up his staff to protect himself.

The howl again. Loud, booming, reverberating around the room. Tears sprung to Anders’ eyes, not out of fear, but relief. And there he was. Huge, commanding, powerful. A great white wolf barrelling down the stairs and crushing the rage demon into the ground, ripping at its throat and face until it disappeared with a shriek and a flare of smoke. Tendrils of dark smoke billowed up around Fenris’ feet, his muzzle dark with ash.

“Creators…”

Anders struggled to his feet with a cry. He held up his hands to Isabela and Merrill. “No! Don’t hurt him!”

“Considering it just saved your life, I don’t think we need to,” Isabela said. She was looking at Fenris with huge eyes, mirrored by Merrill who looked so shocked she might rub her eyes in disbelief.

“I can’t explain now but… look, we have to find Hawke!” Anders said. There was a boom from another part of the building and what was definitely Hawke crying out in pain. None of them said another word and turned to follow the path Hawke had taken.

Fenris butted his nose into Anders’ hand as they ran, his large body so close to Anders’ side he could feel the soft fur and heat. He absently ran his hand over Fenris’ large head and heard a grumble of affection in response.

Isabela cried out and threw her dagger. With pinpoint accuracy it struck the hooded figure in the shoulder as he had been lowering a blade towards Hawke. Hawke was clutching his bleeding head, splayed on the ground.

The mage cried out and pulled the dagger free. Merrill was holding her hands up to protect them just as the darkness surrounded them. Blood ran in rivulets through the air and the hooded mage was gone. In his place, horns rose out of the ground, followed by a sinuous purple body.

“Desire demon,” Isabela said and readied her remaining dagger.

It was Fenris who leapt first. With a growl ripped free of his throat he attacked the demon, bringing it down to the ground and ripping at the creature. Anders gathered his wits and stepped forward, keeping his focus on Fenris. He couldn’t ask to heal him but Fenris tolerated his healing during battles so there should be no issue now. He twirled his staff and a blue glow lit up the end. With a brilliant burst of light, the mana swirled around Fenris’ body and the lines of his lyrium burned up from his flesh, illuminated patterns through his fur like silver vallaslin. Merrill gasped an ‘oh’ and even Isabela stopped.

The secret was no more.

Fenris dispatched the demon, severing its head and watching it dissolve into nothing, snapping at the tendrils of dark magic that vaporised around him. Fenris turned and in two loping steps was back at Anders’ side, snuffling at his chest and hair.

“It’s Fenris!” Merrill announced and Isabela patted her shoulder.

“Let’s help Hawke, okay?”

“Oh, but.. Yes, all right.”

“Why did you come?” Anders asked Fenris as he smoothed back some of the blackened hair around his face. The vivid green eyes stared back at him and Fenris whuffed in derision. A stupid question.

Anders sighed and as he turned to assist with Hawke he kept his hand on Fenris’ neck, keeping him grounded. Keeping them both grounded.


End file.
